


Angel

by DrSpazz



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anorexia, Bulimia, Castiel (Supernatural) Has Self-Esteem Issues, Castiel (Supernatural) Has Self-Worth Issues, Cutting, Dean - Freeform, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Eating Disorders, M/M, Self Harm, anorexic!cas, au in which dean isn't a fucking asshole, bulimic!cas, castiel - Freeform, self harming!cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2020-05-19 20:30:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 27
Words: 52,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19363669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrSpazz/pseuds/DrSpazz
Summary: Destiel College AUDepressed!Cas  Protective!DeanWhen Dean and Castiel find themselves roommates, the two form a profound bond and soon fall in love. However, Cas has a deep, dark sadness he holds close to his heart, and only Dean can cure it. The two go through ups and downs and dark times, but battle together through it all.*TRIGGER WARNING* self harm, suicide attempts, depression, etc





	1. Chapter One - Cas

**Author's Note:**

> hey y'all, this is something I've been working on for a few years and I'm just now posting it to AO3. it has 20 chapters so far, but AO3 fucked up the import process and I now have to manually copy and paste chapters and I'm sick of it! so you'll get like one new chapter a day until I get caught up, then you can expect weekly updates. also, the beginning is a little wack, ya girl started writing this at age 13 and it shows. but it gets better, I promise. enjoy!

_Dean_

Dean stares up at the intimidating front of the Lawrence Community College. For a small town university, _damn_ this thing was huge.  
It's his first day; he didn't ever expect to go to college, but here he is. He always thought Sammy would be the one to go off and get an education while he was stuck doing the family business with his father.

_"Bye, nerd," Dean laughed as he ducked out of the Impala. Damn, would he miss that car._  
_"Says the college jerk," Sam retorted._  
_"Don't douche my up my Baby, bitch," Dean flashed his brother a grin before slamming the door shut and setting off into the unknown of college._

Dean got his schedule from the main campus office and checked his room number: 221B. _So that means second floor, B wing..._

  
_Bam!_ Dean walks right into someone when he reaches his dorm door, not paying attention because he was looking down at his paper.

  
"Hey, watch it--" Dean snaps at the boy, but then his breath catches in his throat when he meets his icy blue gaze.

  
The boy has to be around his age, but much smaller. He has messy black hair, cerulean eyes, and a baggy tan trench coat that hangs down and covers his hands. Glasses with a thick black frame intensify the blue of his irises. Dean distractedly notices that he looks a bit disheveled; his face red and slightly scratched, and a look of residual panic and pain clouding his features.

  
"S-sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going, I, ah--" the boy is stumbling over his words, clearly flustered and socially awkward. Dean feels his mouth quirk up into a smile, which only worsens the boy's anxiety.

  
"Hey, it's fine, I'm nervous too. First day?" Dean asks, laughing in an attempt to soothe the boy's panic.

  
"Um, yeah, is it that obvious?" The smaller boy laughs nervously along with Dean.

  
"A little," Dean says with another laugh. "What's your name?"

  
"C-Castiel..."

  
"Well, 'C-Castiel', my name is Dean Winchester. What room are you in? Maybe you could come over sometime and we'll catch a game or something."  
Castiel nods a little too quickly and swallows, fidgeting with the frayed ends of his trench coat sleeves. Dean can tell by the state of the fabric that he does this a lot. "Y-yeah, that'd be great. I'm in 221B. What about you?"

  
Dean breaks into a grin, "No way! Me too! Looks like we're roomies, Cas!"

  
He unlocks the door and tosses his bag to the side, Cas following behind him. Then he kicks off his shoes and flops down on the clearly uncomfortable couch, propping his feet up on the armrest. Within seconds he's asleep; his unconscious stress of upcoming classes manifesting in exhaustion.

***

 

_Castiel_

 

**~Earlier that day~**

 

"Castiel!"

  
Castiel is woken by his mother calling him from downstairs. He blinks the sleep from his eyes, and looks at his clock: 6:00am. Much too early to be alive.  
" _Castiel!"_

  
"Coming!" He yells, shoving his glasses onto his face and heaving himself out of his bed. He gets dressed in his usual black jeans, white T-shirt, blue tie, and trademark trench coat.

  
Anna, Michael, and Gabriel were already seated around the table. Castiel had no idea where Raphael was. Probably still asleep, seeing as he has no job or school to go to.

  
Castiel picks up his bags for school and zips round the table, kissing his siblings (Anna ducks but he gets her on the top of her head anyway) and parents goodbye, and leaves before anyone can say anything about him not eating breakfast.

  
Castiel manages to get halfway to school without incident, but his luck doesn't extend past skipping breakfast with impunity: two older boys--at least sophomores--decked out in letterman jackets and fuckboy hair, run past him, shoving his head down as they move past him. They laugh wildly, amused at their own antics, and Castiel thanks whatever God there may be that he didn't experience worse.

  
Well, apparently God wasn't real receptive of that, because two more assholes run up to him and start aggressively harassing him. They grab at his trench coat, laughing and yelling as he clung desperately to the sleeves and hem of his shirt.

  
Castiel is saved by a lone teacher chastising them, and the two boys give him a final shove and run off, leaving Castiel sitting in the dirt behind them.  
He picks himself up, silently hoping this isn't a sneak peek at how college life is going to be for him.

  
Later, he picks up his schedule and navigates his way to his room.

  
_God, I hope I don't get stuck with one of_ them _as roommates_ , he thinks, remembering the boys who harassed him earlier.

  
Boy, was he wrong.  
As he nears his room, a tall blond guy with an insanely strong jawline and piercing green eyes nearly runs him over. Castiel stutters out an apology, but the green eyed beaut waved it away.

  
"What's your name?" The guy asks.

  
Oh God, what _was_ his name? He could barely think with that intense gaze upon him.  
"C-Castiel..." he stammers.

  
Castiel loses the first part of the man's response, but he manages to extract the name "Dean Winchester" and "room number" from his jumble of confusion and awestruck-ness.

  
He stutters out his room number, and to his absolute delight, Dean was in the same room as him!

  
"Looks like we're roomies, _Cas!"_

  
Castiel couldn't decide whether or not he liked the new nickname. No one had ever given him a nickname before--hell, no one had really _talked_ to him before--but since it came from Dean, he decided he liked it. He also, albeit subconsciously, decided he liked this Dean character as well.

 


	2. Chapter Two - The Morning Breaks

_Castiel_

Cas's eyes open slowly. It's late; the sun is already visible in his east-facing window in his bedroom. He's never been able to sleep this late; insomnia rather likes him.   
As he contemplates this, a huge racket can be heard from the kitchenette down the hall, which Cas can only assume is Dean making breakfast.

  
He pulls on his coat and shuffles out of the bedroom.

  
"Heya, Cas!" Dean chirps cheerfully, scrambling to pick up the pots and pans littered on the kitchen floor.

  
"Um, hi, Dean..." Cas says awkwardly.

"Jesus, Cas, it's barely 7, why the hell do you have your trench coat on already?"

  
Cas stiffens ever so slightly, but enough to where Dean can tell to back off.

  
"Not that I'm judging you or anything, it's just...odd."

  
Cas nods, noticeably put out. He forces a smile despite himself, and starts to unpack the small suitcase he brought with him. He was originally going to sleep at home, and keep his stuff at the dorm, but now that Dean was here...

  
"So do you want like, eggs, or what?" Dean calls, examining the frying pan he held in his hand as if looking for an 'on' switch.

  
"I'm good, thanks," Cas replies easily. He's had too much practice at refusing food to quail at Dean's question.

  
"You sure? We got class today and I don't want you like, passing out or anything." Dean persists.

  
"I said I'm good," Cas replies, a little strained. "Maybe later," he tries to make up for his earlier snappish-ness.

 _God, is this how it's going to be?_ Cas thinks, mind working into overdrive with catastrophic possibilities, _He's already asking about the coat and the food, it's not even the second_ day _! What am I going to do?! Maybe I should just go home, drop out, it's not like I'm going to amount to anything anyway--_ Dammit! Why did it always have to lead there, why does every thought of his eventually turn out to be self-deprecating? Cas sighs and shakes his head. He's already 100% done with the day and school hasn't even started yet.

  
"All right." Dean shrugs and tosses the pan into the sink with a clang, jolting Cas from his runaway freight train of a mind, "Screw that, cereal is calling my name."  
Cas smiles into the suitcase he's leaning over. God, Dean is so freaking _adorable._

  
But he was obviously straight. Right? I mean, gorgeous jawline, blond hair, forest green eyes--the ladies must be all over him. Cas decides not to worry about this right now, and instead turns his thoughts toward school.

  
God, _school._ If  that wasn't anxiety-inducing, Cas didn't know what was. All those noises and homework and _people_ and teachers and students and just _people--_ Cas suppresses a shudder. He can do this. 'This too shall pass', is a quote that he always repeated to himself. Whether it be sadness or joy or fatigue, everything ends. It was reassuring and disconcerting at the same time.

  
Cas is suddenly aware of Dean's eyes on him. He freezes, realizing that he's been staring at a picture of his family and his brother Luci. **(A/N: Lucifer's name has been changed to Lucius for the purpose of this AU,** **just to make things more realistic)** It was the last time they had been together as a family before Luci was estranged. He turns to face Dean.

  
"Yeah? S-sorry, we're you talking to me? I wasn't paying attention, sorry," Cas internally cringes at his repeated stuttered apology. Smooth as crunchy peanut butter.

  
"No, no, you're good...I was just asking you about that guy in that picture, is he like, your brother, uncle...?" Dean trails off, his right hand gesturing vaguely in the air beside his head.

  
"Brother." Cas states shortly.

"We don't...we don't talk anymore."

  
Dean nods, looking as if he wished he hadn't asked. "Oh, well...that sucks. Why, what did he--"

  
"We don't really talk about that, either, Dean," Cas snaps, slightly impatient. Didn't this prick know when to back the hell off??

  
Dean raises his hands in surrender. "Sorry dude, just asking. So...wanna get to class, or do you plan on sitting here unpacking and repacking your bag all day?"

  
Cas nods and leaves to his room to get dressed. He couldn't decide if he liked Dean or not. Sure, he was hot as hell and twice as interesting, but he was also nosy and didn't seem to read people very well. Cas wasn't sure if he could trust Dean with any sensitive information. Not that he'd tell him anything...but God, he wanted to. He was tired of lying, but he didn't want to tell the truth either. I mean, how does one bring that kind of deep shit up in a conversation? _"Speaking of Latin verbs, did you know that I have depression and cut myself? While we're on the topic, I also starve myself and hate myself. Good talk. So what did you get on problem #6 for Calculus homework?"_ Cas snorted at this. Yeah, that'd go down well.

  
Cas slipped on his clothes from yesterday, not really bothered enough to hunt down a change of clothes. He tries not to let his eyes linger on the scars covering his legs and arms, but he sees enough to basically ruin his day.

  
Cas sighed, turning to face the bathroom mirror. He wasn't even fully aware of how he got to be standing there, it kind of just happened, but now that he was here, it was impossible to leave. He took off his trench coat again, examining the marks on his arms and studying his reflection.

  
Where most people saw thin arms and angular cheekbones, Cas saw cellulite and a moon-shaped face. Where most people saw ribs showing through his thin T-shirt, he saw a pouch of stomach fat sticking through the fabric. He sighed again. He knew how he probably looked to other people, but damn if he couldn't see it himself.   
"Cas, what's taking so long? We're gonna be late, dude," Cas hears Dean's voice coming down the hall and quickly slips on his coat once more and rushes to the door. He arrives just as Dean opens the door and they jolt back awkwardly in surprise, Cas losing his balance and tripping backwards on a stray book and nearly crashing down. Dean's arm shoots out and grabs his wrist, keeping him from falling but in turn sending trails of fire down his arm where Dean's fingers gripped his cuts. Castiel hides his gasp of pain in his startled yelp from falling. Dean pulls him back up, paying no attention to the smaller man's arm (Cas thanks God for this small mercy) and pulls him close--probably, Cas realizes, a little too close (not that he was complaining)--to make sure he doesn't fall again. Cas inhales sharply again, but this has nothing to do with the residual pain on his arm. He was sure he was blushing like hell, but hopes he can pass it off as embarrassment from being so klutzy. Dean and Cas stand there for another few seconds, awkwardly holding each other, when Dean clears his throat and lets go. Castiel realizes that he had grabbed Dean while falling and he had yet to let go. Cas disengages and runs his hand through his already messy black hair and laughs nervously.

  
"Well, that was awkward.." Cas says, forcing a smile.

"No, not really, actually," Dean replies easily, looping an arm around the shorter man's shoulders. "Let's hope you don't fall again, ya dipstick."

  
Cas laughs again, more giddy than nervous this time, and leans into Dean, savoring the feel of his muscular side and warm body; however, Dean was already pulling away and Cas nearly fell again, but regained his composure before Dean saw.

  
In spite of Dean pulling away, Cas felt a happy, warm feeling in his stomach paired with a jittery excitement in his chest. The latter felt a bit like the constricting anxiety he usually felt, but...lighter. Maybe his day won't suck after all.

 

***

 

_Dean_

 

Dean strides ahead of Cas so that he wouldn't see the worry creasing his features. Dean had seen the cuts along the Novak's arms when he pulled him up. That was actually the whole reason he reacted so fast when Cas was falling: he wanted to have an excuse to confirm his suspicions surreptitiously. Dean doesn't know how to deal with this. Hell, he didn't know how to deal with this when _Sammy_ was struggling with this, this self-harm behavior, and that was his own brother. How was he supposed to help this angel of a boy?

  
 _Angel...what?_ Dean pushes that thought away; there were more pressing matters at hand. Like how the hell he was supposed to bring this up.   
Dean sighs as he hears Castiel trotting to keep up with him. He was going to sleep on it, maybe ask Sam for some insight. Hopefully, he could get through the school day without incident.

 


	3. Chapter Three - Day One

_Castiel_

 

Cas walks home, a feeling of lightness in his chest. Everything seems so much brighter; the trees' autumn colors brilliantly contrasting to the dark wood, birds calling to one another, even the air seemed to take on a ethereal quality. He felt...happy. It was almost as if the crushing, suffocating depression that had plagued him all his life had taken a leave of absence.   
Cas hasn't felt this way in God knows how many years, and it's all because of the curious man walking beside him.

  
"So, Cas, how was your first day?"

  
Cas starts a bit, having been absorbed in his thoughts of green eyes and blond hair.

  
"It was good," Cas gives his standard answer, then adding "Better than I thought it'd be. Much better."

  
Dean laughs easily, something Castiel envies.

  
"How so? The calc teacher is an asshat and we've already got homework!"

  
Castiel shrugs, feeling unreasonably defensive. "I don't know, it was just a good day for me."

  
"If you say so," Dean says, smiling.

  
Cas has to fight the urge in his expanding chest to laugh or scream or cry out of the pure and unadulterated joy in his chest. He never thought he'd feel like this again, and for the first time in a long time, he was happy to be alive.

  
Cas looks over to Dean, smiling, but pauses when he sees the look on his face. Dean's face is creased with sadness and internal conflict.

  
"So, Cas..." Dean starts in a tone that brings Cas's mood _way_ down, "I wanted to talk to you about something."

  
Cas nods and swallows, knowing what was coming next. The accusations, the hurt and angry yelling, the inevitable death of a friendship.   
"Yeah, Dean?"

  
Dean takes a deep breath, shuddering as if it pained him to do so.  
"When we were back at the dorm...I saw...I saw your wrists. And I'm sorry for bringing it up," he adds quickly, seeing the pain on his new friend's face, "but I need you to know that, well, I'm here for you, man. Anything you need, got me?"

  
Castiel nods, tears pricking his eyes. He was silent, for he knew if he spoke he would lose it.

  
"Say something, Cas. I need to know you'll talk to me, and if not me, then someone else who can help you."

  
Cas inhales shakily, "Yeah, Dean. I will."

  
Dean nods, visibly relived. A few moments pass in strained silence, and Castiel is about  
to say something, anything to break the tension, when Dean starts talking again, slowly and haltingly at first, then faster as he gained momentum.

  
"I...I have a kid brother. Sammy. He...he used to do this too. I talked to him today while I was waiting for you to get out of English. He told me..he told me that I needed to talk about it with you as soon as possible, because if I didn't and you...I don't know, went too deep or something, I would never forgive myself. So, here I am, talking to you." Dean finishes with a weak, watered-down smile that didn't reach his eyes.

  
Cas is silent, the joy he felt earlier completely gone. His initial fear was gone too, replaced by stifling sadness and guilt and self-hatred. God, when would he ever stop fucking things up?

  
"I understand, Dean. Thank you for your concern. I appreciate it greatly." Cas says robotically, regressing to the matter-of-fact voice tone and language he use when he was too emotionally involved to give an actual answer.

  
Dean gave Cas a sideways look, "Cas, it's not just concern, buddy. It's caring. It's love, okay?"

  
Cas looks up quickly at the last words, excitement sparking in him despite the circumstances.

  
Dean backtracks hastily, "You know what I mean, Cas. I'm doing this because I don't want you to end up like my brother."

  
Cas cocks his head, "I thought you just spoke to him?"

  
"He's not dead, although if I hadn't found him a few years back he would be. He tried to kill himself, Cas. He cut way too deep, and instead of calling for help, he just cut deeper and took a Tylenol-NyQuil-tranquilizer cocktail. It was bad, Cas. I don't want to see you do the same." Dean finishes, his breath catching on the last sentence.

  
Cas is crying now, tears running down his face silently. He's imagining  what would happen if Anna had his same problems. What would he do if she tried to kill herself? Cas stifles a sob when he pictures his little sister's body, deep lacerations down her arms, lying in a bathtub full of warm, blood red water. Dean has to look away so he won't break down as well.

  
"I-I'm sorry, Dean," Cas chokes out, inhaling a stuttering breath. "I promise I'll talk to you, but..."

  
"But what, Cas?"

  
"But it's going to be really hard for me. Please be patient. Years of hating myself isn't going to go away overnight." Cas says, not meeting Dean's eyes.

  
"God, Cas...I'm so sorry..." Dean says in a pained voice.

  
"Don't be. You're the first person not to yell or be angry with me when they found out. And also the first person I promised I'd talk to and actually mean it." Cas admits.

  
Cas takes another deep, shuddering breath. A huge weight had been lifted off his chest. His throat was tight with  tears, but his heart was free. He had finally found a friend.

  
"I'm glad I could be that person for you, Cas. I just wish I had found you sooner."

  
"Me too, Dean. Me too."

 

***

 

_Dean_

 

Dean unlocks the door to the dorm, and just as Cas is about to turn down the hall, he makes a split second decision and pulls Cas into a hug. The smaller man stiffens, then slowly relaxes into him. Shaky fingers find their way into the fabric of Dean's hoodie and clench its fabric, balling it up as sobs shake Cas's body. Dean rubs his hands over Cas's back soothingly, his heart twisting when he feels the bones protruding even through his trench coat. Dean strokes the back of Cas's head, surprised at how soft his hair is. Dean tries not to think how out of character this is for him. "No chick-flick moments" was his policy. But his heart had a soft spot for the dark haired boy clutching to him like a drowning man does a life preserver.

  
"Cas, hey, it's okay. You're okay. It'll be okay. You're going to be okay. One step at a time, all right?"

  
He can feel Cas nodding into his shoulder, his finger still tangled in the fabric of Dean's jacket.

When they finally separate, Dean hooks Cas's chin and forced him to look in his eyes.   
"I need you to give me your blades, okay?"

  
Cas's eyes are full of tears of self-hatred and desperation. Dean's heart aches. He can't imagine how it would tear you apart to be dependent on something that literally destroyed you.

  
"Dean...I can't. I...I need them.." Cas cringes, tears spilling from his blue eyes as he squeezes them shut. "God, that sounds awful..."

  
Dean nods, "Yeah, yeah it does. But it's okay. Just give them to me. We have to start somewhere, okay?"

  
Castiel inhales and closes his eyes. "They're in my suitcase. There's a false bottom on it. They're under there."

  
Dean nods, slightly concerned about the security levels of his blades. He leaves Cas in the hallway, staring at the floor tiles.   
Dean finishes collecting the blades--finding two more in the bathroom that Cas didn't tell him about, which worries Dean greatly.  
Dean returns to Cas, who is where he left him, kneeling on the floor, arms wrapped around his slight frame.

  
"I got the ones you've told me about, but I found two more in the bathroom. Are there any more I don't know about?"

  
Castiel nods, a pained look in his cobalt eyes. "Yes, but I kind of just want to sleep right now. Can I get them in the morning?"

  
Dean reluctantly nods. "Okay, but I want you to sleep in my room tonight, all right?"

  
It's Castiel's turn to nod reluctantly, but he looks grateful as well.

  
"Okay."

  
Dean smiles, a genuine one that warms Cas's heart.

 

***

 

_Castiel_

 

Castiel lays on his makeshift bed, staring lifelessly at the wall in front of his. Dried tear tracks are sticky on his cold face, and he wishes Dean hadn't found those two razors.   
Cas turns over to look at Dean's form on the bed above him. He can tell from the relatively shallow rise and fall of the young man's chest that he's only pretending to be asleep.   
Despite this, Cas quietly gets up, and pads over to Dean's bed. He gets in carefully, trying not to let the bed springs squeak as he slips between the covers. Dean's breathing grows irregular, and Castiel knows that Dean knows he's in bed with him. Dean hadn't said anything up to this point, so Cas took it to mean he was okay with it.   
Once Cas is settled, he falls asleep almost immediately.

 

***

 

_Dean_

 

Once he hears Castiel's breathing slow into sleep, Dean is careful not to wake Cas up as he turns over and slowly, slowly reaches his arm over the sleeping boy and snuggle into him. Dean knew Cas needed compassion, so he was willing to set aside any heterosexual misgivings he might harbor and comfort him.  
The two sleep peacefully through the night.

 


	4. Chapter Four - Waking Up Happy

Dean wakes to feel a small form pressed against his. He opens his eyes and finds Cas curled up into his chest, his nose pressed into Dean's shoulder. His breath tickled his collarbone, and his hair brushed at Dean's face. Dean angled his face so that he could study this curious anomaly that was Castiel Novak.  
He looks so peaceful, laying there beside Dean. The lines of tension and sadness and anxiety that usually creased his features are gone, replaced by soft, gentle sloping of cheekbones to nose to chin. Long dark lashes twitch as his eyes move under his lids. Dean hopes he was dreaming of something happy. Cas was just so incredibly...perfect.

  
Then Dean's eyes travel farther down his body, and his heart breaks. Red gashes crisscross his bare arms, some almost fully scarred over, some looking as fresh as two days ago. Puckered white bands line his upper arms, several years old. Dean feels so hopelessly useless to ease this boy's suffering. Dean can tell the Novak hadn't been eating (Dean makes a mental note to ask Sammy for advice on that one too); his arms are thin and wiry and his collarbones are frighteningly apparent. Dean would bet real money that his ribs could be counted individually had his shirt been off. Dean's mind begins to wander elsewhere after this particular thought, but he is brought back to reality when Cas stirs next to him. Dean instinctively shuts his eyes and slows his breathing.   
Dean feels Cas stiffen, then relax. Dean can almost hear him smiling, and he has to stifle one of his own.

  
"Dean, I know you're awake."

  
Dean smiles and says, "No I'm not," without opening his eyes. "I'm totally, 100% unconscious."

  
Cas laughs, a sound that makes Dean's heart do a little jump thing. Dean opens his eyes as Cas moves away.  
Suddenly, Cas's eyes go wide with realization, and his hands go to his arms, feeling vainly for a sleeve to pull down, before he pulls the blanket up in an attempt to shield his scars from view.

  
"Hey, woah woah Cas, it's okay, take it easy. I'm not judging you or staring or hating you. You can let me see. Or not," Dean amends, seeing the look of terror on the blue eyed boy's face. "Just whatever you feel comfortable with."

  
Cas nods, relaxing his hold on the sheets but not lowering them a fraction of an inch.

"So. Breakfast?" Dean suggests.

  
Cas nods again, "Uh, sure. I'll get dressed."

  
The two get out of bed and shuffle off to their respective rooms.   
At breakfast time, Dean serves Cas a plate of scrambled eggs and toast, with the same for himself plus coffee.   
Cas just stares at the food.

  
"Come on, Cas, buddy, you gotta eat." Dean pleads.

  
"Actually, Dean, I think I'll just have some coffee, thanks." Cas says, not meeting Dean's eyes.

  
"No, you need to eat. Please," Dean says, a look of begging in his eyes.

  
Cas inhales shakily and picks up his fork.   
Dean wants to grin from ear to ear and clap Castiel on the back, but does neither. He settles for a small smile and a mouthed, _thank you._ Cas sees this and smiles a little in response, eliciting a wave of relief mixed with an unknown emotion rushing through Dean.

  
Cas and Dean finish their meal in silence and without eye contact, but both could feel the other glancing up when they thought the other man wasn't looking.  
Dean gets up and claps Cas on the back, "Thanks Cas." He notices how the Novak flinched when he raised his hand. Yet _another_ thing to ask Sammy about...  
Dean is too preoccupied with this thought to notice the dark haired boy steal away to the bathroom.

 

***

 

_Castiel_

 

Cas exits the bathroom, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. Part of him feels guilty for going behind Dean's back like this, but the majority of him is lowkey flipping out,  
 _How am I going to keep this up while he's around? He's not the kind to sit back and watch you destroy yourself, he's going to make you eat, make you stop cutting, tell your parents...._  
Cas inhales shakily and meets Dean at the door.

  
"Ready?" Dean says, grinning.

  
"Nope," Cas replies, a smile finding its way onto his face. "Not at all."

 

***

 

_Dean_

 

"Okay, Sammy, you really need to help me on this one."

 

 _"Dean, just do what you think is right! Do what you did when it was me: stay close and be loving. You've already done the right thing by catching it early, but any more and you'll drive him away."_ Sam sighs, his breath crackling over the line, _"To be honest, I don't remember much of that time, but I do remember the kindness. The love. I remember who was nice to me and who wasn't. He'll remember you, just make sure it's a good memory."_  
The phone clicked off, and Dean sighed, flipping the phone shut with a resigned _clack._

  
"Hey, Dean!" Dean hears a familiar voice behind him. His face breaks into a grin even before he turns around, even despite the previous conversation.

  
"Heya Cas," he says, slapping the smaller man a high five. He is immensely relieved that Cas seemed to be warming up to him.

  
"So how was classes?" Dean asks. One of the tips Sam had given him to make Cas come out of his shell was to ask open-ended, non-threatening questions.

Cas groans, and launches into a story about how it was the _second day--_ the second day!---and the amount of homework they were given.

  
"I mean, you see all those Tumblr posts about how college is way easier than your parents make it out to be, and what are they? LIES." Cas has an animated grin on his face and his hands are gesturing wildly in the air, and all of this brings a smile to Dean's face. Dean had only known him for a couple days, but he can tell Castiel hasn't always been in the state he was now: animated, smiling, _happy._

  
Dean hopes he can make a difference in this boy's life. He doesn't want to come to the dorm and enter the bathroom to see Cas lying there, comatose from an overdose or covered in blood or God forbid _dead--_  
Dean stops himself, and focuses on all the ways Cas is _not_ dead.   
His hands. Dead people's hands don't wave in excited motions, depicting the injustice of the Kansas school system. His eyes. Dead eyes aren't blue and lively, and the colors wouldn't be so deep and blue and look like an endless frozen ocean, nestled in a snowy expanse of fresh white powder on the slope of a mountain--

  
"Dean. Dean."

  
Dean snaps out of it, genuinely clueless about where his mind was.

  
"Dean. Why're you looking at me like that?"

  
Dean shakes his head, looking down and biting his lip to stop the shy smile that was curling his mouth. "Nothing Cas..." Dean says, but blurts out a split second later, "Hey, did anyone ever tell you you have really pretty eyes?"

  
Cas trips over his feet and face plants on the pavement despite Dean's feeble attempts to catch him--Dean didn't want to hurt his wrists again.   
Castiel looks up from where he's sprawled on the ground, then finds his way to a seated position.

  
"I-I what?" Cas splutters, his cheeks flushing, blood dripping down his face from a cut on his forehead, "I have pretty eyes?"

  
"Jesus, Cas, your head just split open, let me help you."

  
Cas stilled himself as Dean got down to his level and pulled out a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and began dabbing at the wound.   
As the silence and the tension from the loaded question stretch out between them, Dean knows he has two decisions: awkwardly say "never mind" and never speak of it again, or embrace the awkward and play it up.   
He decides on the second one,

  
"Well, you know, they're nice eyes. I wish I had eyes like that. Mine are just green."

  
Cas looks at him disbelievingly, "You serious? I'd kill to have your eyes. They're like a...forest. Like a forest of pine trees."

  
Dean laughs, glad that the awkward had passed. "Pine trees? That's specific."

  
Cas shrugs, "Well, pines are evergreen, and I'm betting your eyes don't look any duller in winter, in fact they'd probably look _brighter--_ " Cas stops, aware he's crossed some heterosexual line. "I'm sorry, Dean, I swear sometimes I'm way too gay to function," he laughs, running his hand through his already messy hair, sending an odd tingle through Dean.

  
"Wait, you're gay?" Dean asks, equal parts confused and intrigued.

  
Cas laughs, "Yeah, did the word 'faggot' spray painted across my car not enlighten you enough?"

  
Dean nodded, not sure whether to sympathize for the vandalism or to probe further into the gay-ness.

  
"I'm--I'm sorry for your car, um, I didn't do it, obviously, since I didn't know you were, um, gay, but..."

  
Cas laughs again, "It's fine Dean, I don't mind. I'm used to it," he says this last part quieter, his smile dropping a little.

  
"Cas, no one should have to get _used to_ being hurt so much that vandalism doesn't even bother them. That's stupid as hell."

  
Cas shrugs, "Well, I am. I'm so used cutting myself that a freaking head wound seems like nothing. I'm so used to starving myself, a skipped lunch seems like a missed snack." His voice had changed from passive and matter-of-fact to hard and spiteful. As soon as he said these words, however, his face stills and grief comes into his watery blue eyes. "I'm sorry, Dean. Sometimes I'm a bit too broken to function, too."

  
Dean's heart is about to be too broken to function, and he looks hard into Cas's eyes.

  
"Listen to me, Castiel Novak: you are not too broken. You are perfect and you deserve to be happy. You need to get that through that head of yours and then never let it go. You. Are. Loved. It doesn't matter if no one has before now, because all the matters is right here, right now."

  
The sun has almost set now, and there were very little people in the fading light. Dean is struck by the intense desire to pull Cas's face towards him and kiss the fuck out of him, wrap him in his arms and squeeze him so tightly that he might stick all the pieces back together.

  
Cas's eyes are locked onto his, an anomaly in it of itself as Cas was generally very bad with eye contact. His breath catches in his throat, and the moment seems to still: the air has taken on an otherworldly quality, the remaining light in the sky filters through the darkening trees, illuminating sporadic motes of dust in the cooling air, and Dean is aware of the blood rushing in his ears, Cas's face is _right there_ , right within reach, and--

  
"Thanks, Dean. I...I really appreciate it." Cas's face breaks into a small smile, but his voice completely shattered the moment.

  
Dean clears his throat and nods. "All righty then. Good talk." Dean puts up the nonchalant, neutral façade he normally used and jumps to his feet. He offers Cas a hand, which he takes, trying to digest the butterflies in his stomach.

  
The two walk home without another word being spoken, each absorbed in their own version of the events that played out.

 


	5. Chapter Five - Drugs and Hugs

_Castiel_

 

Castiel is at the Walmart two blocks from Lawrence Community College. His eyes wandered the shelves in the pharmaceutical section. He was picking up his Zoloft prescription, but it was taking a while to fill, so he was just killing time when his eyes found...a set of scales. Cas freezes and his heart jumps. He had a little extra cash, scales were a practical necessity, he wouldn't become obsessed, he can do this.... _no,_ he tells himself firmly, _no._ He had promised Dean.  
As if on cue, Dean comes striding up beside Dean and claps him on the shoulder,

  
"Hey Cas, we almost done here?" Dean asks in his usual loud, to-the-point voice. He looks up at the scales Cas was having an internal war over. "Whatcha lookin at? Cas..." he says when he puts two and two together, "seriously? The answer is no."

 

  
Cas's temper flares and he says defensively, "I didn't ask your permission, Dean. I wasn't even going to buy them anyway. I was just looking."  
Dean rolls his eyes, "All right Cas, whatever. Just so you know, hypothetically, if you were to buy a theoretical set of scales, I would take them and break them. Comprende?"

  
"Sí. No voy a comprar estas básculas de baño." Cas rattles off in perfect Spanish, partly showing off and partly trying to diffuse the tension with a joke, "Plus, you didn't even use the word 'theoretical' correctly."

  
Dean rolls his eyes again, so hard Cas genuinely wondered if they'd pop out of his orbital cavities. "oH MY GOD CAS, WE KNOW YOU'RE SMART, NOW SHUT THE HELL UP!"

  
Cas laughs, all tension gone from his shoulders and face, purely and totally given himself over to the moment. "I think my prescription's ready, Dean."  
"I got it," Dean volunteers, sprinting to the check-in counter. Cas starts after him, a split second behind, his heart and feet light with laughter and a jittery happiness that filled his soul with joy. Hell, at this rate, he won't even _need_ those antidepressants!

  
Dean beats Cas to the counter and collects the paper packet that the pharmacist handed him, Cas reaching him a second later and giggling as he leaned against him for support.

  
The pharmacist grinned at the two, "You boys are cute," she said approvingly, looking the pair over.

  
Cas nearly falls over as Dean suddenly pulls away, straightening himself as he stammers,  
"No, we're not, uh, I'm not gay, we're roommates actually--"

  
"It's fine, Dean," Cas says coldly, the laughter  gone as quickly as it came. He was hurt, but if he had learned one thing by now, it was how to conceal his pain.   
Dean's face is pained and conflicted, but he says nothing. The pharmacist is looking awkwardly between the two apparently heterosexual men.

  
"...that will be $9.45. Your insurance saved you $16.93. Have a good day." she breaks the silence robotically, and Cas hurries to swipe his HSA card.

***

As they arrive home, Cas dumps his school things on the dining room table and heads straight for his room, locking the door behind him and crouching on the floor in the dark.   
His mind was a whirlwind of emotions: anger at Dean for being straight, hurt that Dean was so quick to deny any feelings for him, sadness because he's _so fucking fucked-up,_ frustrated and furious at himself for falling in love with the man even though he _promised_ himself he wouldn't, and most (and worst) of all, the overwhelming ache that was gone while he was laughing with Dean was back in full force. It constricted his heart, crushing his rib cage around the deceptively fragile muscle, and Cas was on his knees and pulling on his hair, a silent scream building in his throat as he cried noiselessly.   
All of a sudden, the feeling is gone. Cas looks up, takes a deep breath, and is filled with a sense of surreal calmness. He is in control. He will not be a slave to his depression.   
Even in his unreal state of mind, he realizes how big of a step that is for him. He has always imagined Depression as a corporeal being, sitting in the back of his mind and preying on him without Cas being able to do anything to stop it. But today, today he said _no_ for the first time.

 

"Cas?" Dean's voice comes from outside his door, hesitant, "You okay in there dude?"

  
Cas nods, and then remembers Dean can't see him. "Yes." He is surprised at how convincing and steady his voice sounds. "Yeah, I'm good Dean. I'll be out in a minute."

  
Cas heard nothing from Dean, but he can tell he hasn't moved from his spot outside the door. Cas feels like Dean is about to say something, and he does,  
"Hey...Hey, Cas?"

  
Cas laughs softly, "Haven't moved, Dean."  
Cas hears Dean chuckle quietly as he says, "Yeah, I was just thinking...."

  
Cas silently gets up and pads over to the door on socked feet. He leans on the side of the wall next to the door, imagining Dean doing the same on the opposite side.   
"Yeah?"

  
He can almost hear the indecision and confusion in the other man's head.

  
Dean sighs, "Nothing, Cas. Just wondering what you wanted for dinner is all."

  
Cas can hear the defeat in Dean's voice, and that's what spurred him to press the issue instead of dropping it like he usually does.   
"Dean, wait..."

  
The footsteps that had been fading back out to the main room made their way back, pausing outside the door hopefully.   
"Yeah?"

  
Now it's Cas's turn to falter and look or excuses. "Oh, I don't know, it's just you sounded like you wanted to say something else is all."  
Dean's sharp intake of breath sends a spike of an unknown emotion into Cas's heart.

  
"Yeah, actually, I was, but...I kinda don't wanna say it, to be honest..."

  
Cas's heart races at the possibilities of what Dean doesn't want to say, some good, some of them bad, some of them _very_ bad, but all of them quite exciting.   
When Dean doesn't say anything further, Cas says,

  
"How about this: I tell you something I don't want to tell you, and you'll tell me ?"

  
Silence, which Cas presumes is Dean thinking over the proposal.

  
"Okay, deal." Dean agrees, and then takes a deep breath. "Cas, have you...have you hurt yourself recently?"

  
_Oh. That's not what I was expecting. Well fuck._

  
"What were you expecting?" Dean asks, confused.

  
Cas cringes, not aware he had said that out loud. "Not that, I guess. And no, I haven't, you can check me if it helps you sleep at night."

  
Dean laughs softly at the facetious remark. "It would, actually, so I'll have to take you up on that offer. So, your turn."

  
Cas leans his head against the wall and closes his eyes as he tries to think of something of meaning to tell Dean, since he obviously can't tell him what he was originally going to say. He thinks of something serious enough that Dean will be satisfied with without exposing his feelings too much.

  
"I, ah, I was actually going to buy them. The scales, I mean. Las básculas," he adds, hoping to win an audible laugh from the other side of the wall. He doesn't get one.

  
"Yeah, I kinda knew that. It's fine though, because I got to you in time. As long as that happens, we're good. Right?"

  
"Right." Cas nods, smiling a little even though he knows Dean can't see it.

  
"Come on, let's eat. I've got some ramen that I picked up while we were at the store."

  
Cas nods, opens the door, and follows his roommate into the light.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeeaaaaahhhhhh I know these chapters are a bit short, my quality of writing was not exactly top notch 4 year ago, so theyre like 1500 words max. trying to make the ones past ch 19 at least 3000 words, more if I can. my apologies, friends.


	6. Chapter Six - Don't Try Suicide

_Dean_

_Stupid, stupid, STUPID Dean!!_

  
Dean mentally chants to himself as he lies in bed that night, staring at the wall in front of him. He wants to literally smash his head in with one of the bricks lining the campus walkways because he i _s so fucking STUPID!!!_  
He had a chance, and he missed it. He had a reason to tell Cas he loved him, and what does he do? He fucks it up.  
Dean had long since accepted he was not 100% heterosexual, roughly at the same time he admitted that he was head-over-heels, hopelessly, way-too-gay-to-function in love with Castiel James Novak. But what to do about it?! Just because Cas was gay doesn't mean he reciprocated his feelings for him, Dean knows this.   
Dean sighs. He would give literally anything short of selling his own soul to the king of Hell to reclaim that moment when Cas was in his bed, lying next to him, sleeping peacefully for what was probably the first time in weeks.   
Dean's thoughts begin to wander elsewhere at the notion of him and Cas in the same bed, but he brings his mind back to the present when he hears poorly stifled sobs drifting into his room through the thin dorm wall that separates him and Cas. Dean debates for a half second between allowing Cas his space or going in to investigate the cause of his crying, then heaves his six foot frame from his creaky bed and ventures to the door.   
He knocks on Castiel's door softly twice with his first two knuckles, and the sobs were quickly but ineffectually silenced.

  
"Cas?" Dean's voice comes out gravelly with concern and trepidation. "Can I come in?"

  
Dean hears nothing.

  
"No," Cas finally says shakily. "Please don't."

  
Dean's pulse quickens, because that is not the thing you say when everything is hunky-dory.

 

"Well, I'm coming in anyway. Make yourself decent." Dean tries to throw in a joke to ease his nerves, but regrets saying anything the instant he spoke.

  
"Dean..." Cas protests weakly as Dean opens the door, spilling silver light from the nightlight Cas insisted on having in the hall into the darkened room.

  
"Cas..." It was Dean's turn to utter the other man's name when he saw Cas sitting in the middle of his floor, blood spilling from his forearms and onto the carpeted floor.

  
Dean rushed forward and takes Cas's arms gently in his own, his heart twisting painfully in his chest as he feels the depth of the cuts and the tackiness of the partly dried blood on Cas's unhealthily thin arms. Dean notices distractedly that Cas's hair is wet and his clothes are damp.   
Cas is silent, his eyes staring blankly at his mutilated arm. This concerns Dean, because if it were him, he'd be flipping the fuck out. But Cas remains as motionless as the stone his face seems to be carved from.

  
"Cas, buddy, we gotta stop the bleeding," Dean says, searching his face for some kind of emotion.

  
Cas slowly nods, his eyes remaining downcast.

  
"Alright, sit tight, I'll be right back," Dean gets up to find a towel in the bathroom to staunch the bleeding with.   
Dean freezes when he steps in something sticky and wet. He fumbles for his phone to to light up the carpeted floors, and his light reveals a trail of blood leading to the bathroom. Dean's heart plummets to the floor as he hurries to the bathroom.   
The bathroom is a mess: blood blossoms like a crimson flower on the floor; a trail leading from the shower stall to the toilet seat to the door highlights the route Cas presumably took after his shower; there is a dismantled shaving razor sitting on the sink edge, one of its blades sitting alone and bloody on the tile floor. The shower is still on, washing the still-wet blood down the drain in a watery orange stream.   
Dean's heart is racing into overdrive; he had severely underestimated how badly Castiel was hurt. He also realizes he had forgotten to get the blades Cas had told him about, sending a pang of guilt through his stomach. Dean turns and bolts back to the smaller man huddled on the bedroom floor, and bundles Cas's insubstantial weight into his leanly muscled arms and races to his Impala parked outside.   
Dean sets Cas gently in the passenger seat, not able to care less about the blood pooling in his Baby's pristine vinyl seats.   
The drive to the hospital was agonizingly slow, despite no one being on the road at 12:14 am and Dean blowing through every red light and ignoring every stop sign.

  
"Cas, Cas, you gotta stay with me buddy, okay? Please, Cas..." Dean was full on crying now, one hand on the wheel, one hand clutching at Cas, whose head was nodding as he slid in and out of consciousness.

  
"Stay awake, stay awake, please Cas, I love you, please stay awake..."

  
Dean curses himself for leaving behind the towel in his haste, and noted that the bleeding is slowing down by itself--Dean isn't sure if this is a good sign or a bad one.   
Dean risks a glance at Cas's face and his world comes crashing down around him when he sees his roomate's face.   
His lips are colorless, his face is ashen and pallor, and any and all life has been sucked out of him and drained through the frighteningly deep cuts on Cas's forearms.   
Dean chokes back a sob, and turns his gaze back to the road, too late to see a pair of headlights headed directly at the Impala.   
Dean's eyes fly wide as the semi truck collides with them head on, sending his world into unwelcome blackness.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eeeuuuuuggghhhhh short chapter cliffhanger sorryyyyyyyyy


	7. Chapter Seven - The Death of an Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> longer chapter! don't say I've never done anything for you guys

_Castiel_

The world has never looked so dark.

Cas lies on the cold ground staring up at the stars. They're strangely beautiful, shimmering through the blood red haze descending over his vision.   
He can feel his limbs bent at unnatural angles, and even through the searing pain in his right leg and the burning numbness settling in his forearms, Castiel can hear Dean calling his name weakly.

  
"Cas...Castiel..." Dean's voice comes from somewhere off to his left. "Are you there?"

  
Cas tries to open his mouth to speak, but his senses are flooded with the acrid stench of burning oil and smoke and singed vinyl, effectively choking off any sound he might have made. He can hear a ringing in his ears that has grown to a earsplitting scream, blocking out everything that he might hear.   
Pain begins to take over his body, the corners of his vision begins to darken, but all Castiel can do is look at the stars.

 

***

 

_Dean_

 

"Cas...Castiel..." Dean's voice is strained and anguished. "Are you there?"

  
Silence.

  
Dean's heart feels like it's breaking. He can't bear the thought of Cas lying bloody and broken in the wreckage of his beloved Impala. Dean refuses to entertain the notion of Cas being anything worse than badly hurt.   
Dean tries to reach for his phone to call 911, but he cries out in pain as he tried to move his arms. Both of them seem to be broken.   
Dean does something he's never done before: he prays.

  
 _God, please, if you're real, if you care about your children at all, please,_ please _, let Cas live. That's all I ask._

  
Dean hears sirens in the distance, and relief floods him and he allows darkness take him home.

 

***

 

Dean wakes to white walls and blinding white light.   
For a minute he thinks he died and went to heaven, but then the pain in his arms set in and a pounding headache reveals itself to him and he knows he survived.   
Dean groans and looks around his hospital room.   
It was pretty bland, as most hospital rooms are. Several machines were hooked up to Dean, making various beeping sounds; there was a fake plant in the window that faces out to the hallway whose purpose Dean assumes to be was to liven up the clinical, sterile room a bit.   
Suddenly, Dean is hit with a wave a panic concerning Cas.

  
_Where is he? Is he alive? Is he hurt? Cas!_

  
Dean looks around frantically for a nurse, but can't see any from the confines of his hospital bed. Dean spies a red button with a faded but still discernible _CALL NURSE_ printed above it.   
Dean reaches for the button, but is stopped by a sharp pain in his arms. Dean just now realizes both his arms are firmly wrapped in layers of Ace bandages and gauze, and from the rigidity of his joints he can tell his arms have also been splinted.

  
 _How the fuck am I supposed to call the nurse with two broken arms??_ Dean thought disbelievingly. He wanted to talk to the one in charge of that decision.   
Fortunately, a nurse walks by his room at that time, and Dean calls out to her in a croaky voice,

  
"Ma'am? Miss? Excuse me?"

  
The nurse backtracks to his room and pokes her head in,  
"Oh good, you're awake! Your father--Bobby, was it?--is here in the waiting room if you'd like to see him."

  
Dean's heart drops down through the bed and settles on the sterile white laminate floor. His own dad didn't want to see him?

  
 _At least Bobby cares enough to see me when I almost died,_ Dean thinks bitterly.

  
"Uh, yeah, I guess. Is my brother there too?"

  
"I think he went home; it's almost 5am, he's been here most of the night," the nurse responds.

  
As the nurse is about to leave, Dean calls out suddenly, "What about Cas? Castiel Novak."

  
The nurse's perpetual smile wavers and she says, "I can't tell you that right now. You need rest, we can't have you worrying about someone else when you should be worrying about yourself." With that, she disappears.

  
Dean rolled his eyes and panic starts to set in. Didn't the nurse know that he would worry even more if he didn't know Cas was okay?  
As Dean looks around for some way to escape his bonds, he hears someone clear their throat in front of him.   
Dean's head snaps up and his eyes settle on a short-ish man with a scruffy beard and a smart black suit.

  
"Who're you?" Dean asks warily, already suspicious about this new character.

  
"Doesn't matter right now. Let's just cut to the chase: your friend is dying. I can help," the man says. He has a British accent and a condescending voice that sounds confident in having the upper hand on the situation.

  
"Cas? Cas is dying?" Dean's heart climbs its way back up into his throat, a lump of emotion constricting his words. "How do you know? You're not hospital staff, are you?"

  
The British man laughs bitterly. "No, no I'm much more than that. I'm Crowley," he says as if it is a grand title.

  
"Crowley," Dean repeats. "Sorry, doesn't ring a bell."

  
The man--Crowley--seems slightly put out, but digresses.

  
"Anyway, Dean, I was wondering if you'd like to strike a deal. One human soul for another."

  
Dean snorts, "A human soul? What kind of sick joke is that? You're crazy. Get lost, you creep."

  
Crowley rolls his eyes, "I'm not a creep, I'm trying to help you, you ungrateful bastard!"

  
Dean narrows his eyes at the man, "Okay, so let's say I do 'sell my soul' to you. How do I know you're not just conning me and that Cas is perfectly healthy?"  
Crowley advances on Dean and touches two fingers to his forehead. After a dizzying, lurching sensation, Dean finds himself by his best friend's bedside. Cas is laid out on the hospital gurney, blanched as the sheets he's resting on. His lips are pale, and his breathing is shallow, filtered through a tube jammed down his throat. The wires and machines hooked up to him beep faintly and weakly, which worries Dean. It breaks Dean's heart to see him like this: fragile, broken, and clinging to life halfheartedly.   
He buries his face into Cas's neck, his movements hindered by his bandaged arms and Cas's wires.  
Dean feels tears gather in his eyes and blinks them away, embarrassed at the thought of crying in front of this stranger. He pulls away, his touch lingering on Cas's heavily bandaged arms.

  
"Sorry. Can you...can you really fix him?"

  
"Good as new. Scout's honor." Crowley holds up three fingers in a mock salute.

  
Dean nods, gaze still fixed on Cas's shallowly rising and falling chest.

  
"So how does this work? I just give you my soul, and when I die, I go to Hell? Forever?"

  
Crowley nods, "Hit it right on the head."

  
Dean is caught in a moment of indecision. Should he do this? Should he actually sell his soul to the Devil to save the man he loves' life? Forever was an awful long time to be burning...but the rest of his life was going to be a living hell without Cas.

  
Dean inhales shakily. "How long...how long would I have? Before I die, I mean."

  
Crowley hums, his hand resting near his mouth, pretending to think about it. "Well, normally I'd give you ten years, but in this case I'm not sure if I have ten whole years to give. After all, he might survive, but will he ever love you back...? How badly do you want him, Dean?"

  
"You're right. I do love him,"

  
God, was that a hell of an understatement. Dean _adored_ him, _cherished_ him. Dean wished he had bigger words than "love" to describe Cas. He wished he had words for the way Cas's eyes lit up like Christmas when he saw Dean, how Cas would grit his teeth and force food down his throat even though he hated everything about eating, he did it for Dean and Dean alone. He wished he could describe to this Crowley person how Cas's raven hair was perpetually ruffled and how his strikingly blue irises were intensified by the thick black frames of his glasses, and how it hurt Dean to see those scars crisscrossing his beautiful body, how much it killed Dean to know that Cas didn't think he was worthy of the slightest affection. Dean wished all of these things and more, but the one thing he could have was sitting in front of him, dying. Dean wanted him so, so badly, but what about what Cas wants? How would he react when he found out that Dean had literally sold his soul to Satan to save him, when the last thing he wanted was to be saved?

  
Dean sets his jaw and looks Crowley in the eye. "I love him, so much, and I want him more than anything I've ever wanted before. But he wouldn't want me to burn in Hell for a mistake he made. I decline."

  
Crowley shrugs and says, "So be it."

  
With a snap of his fingers, the machinery hooked up to Cas begin to scream, warning lights and beeping going off as Cas's body arches, his arms and legs jerking and twitching as he chokes on the intubation tube that was supposed to be helping him breathe. Foam trickles from the corners of his mouth as choking gasps are ripped from his throat.   
Dean is paralyzed with fear, the shrieking of the machines completely disabling any reactions he might have had to seeing his best friend, the man he loved, dying in front of him, all because he was too selfish to save him when he had the chance.   
Nurses rush into the room, and one preps the defibrillator while another one rips open Cas's hospital gown, exposing his chest and protruding ribs, as well as numerous scars. Dean feels a painful twisting in his chest as he realizes, yet again, how much Cas had been hurting and how little he knew.   
Another nurse tries to shoo him out, but Dean digs his heels in and the nurse gives up, focusing on the dying boy in front of him.

  
"Clear!" one of the nurses shout as all the other nurses remove their hands from Cas's body, which arches again as electricity so pumped into his body in a feeble attempt to restart his heart.

  
Dean is crying now, tears streaming down his face as he watches, powerless to stop it, the death of an angel.   
But is he powerless? Dean tries to call out to Crowley. How do you contact a demon? Is there like a Dark Side version of praying?

  
"Crowley, you son of a bitch, come back! I accept! Any time period, I'll take it!" Dean cries out, his eyes screwed shut as hatred and pain and absolute anguish courses through his body.

  
When he opens his eyes, Crowley is standing in front of him.

  
"You have ten months. Make them count." With that, Crowley pulls Dean close and kisses him roughly, much to Dean's confusion and disgust.  
When Crowley pulls back, Dean wipes his mouth vigorously on his hand, and returns his gaze back to Castiel.  
With joy and pure gratefulness filling his chest, Dean's eyes light upon Castiel's living, breathing body. The nurses's frenzy slows. The machines return to a normal, steady beat. Dean can breathe again.  
One of the nurses--the same one that tried to usher Dean out a little while ago--catches Dean by the shoulder and marches him to his room, lecturing about how he needs to stay in his own damn room and stop nearly killing other patients. Dean can barely hear him over his own thoughts, though:

  
 _What the hell? Did that actually work? Is Cas going to live? Ten months? Is that how long I have left to live? Did I actually sell my fucking soul to the Devil?_  
Dean was happy, hell, he was _ecstatic_ that Cas was going to be okay, but he was still having a hard time coming to grips with the fact that he had ten months to live.

  
_Well, I guess I'll just have to make them count._

  
When Dean returns to his hospital room, he grabs a pad of paper and a pen and begins to write, ignoring the protesting of his broken arms.

 

_Three Hundred Day Bucket List:_   
_Day one: save a life._

Check.

 


	8. Chapter Eight - Beautiful

_Dean_

 

The air smells like spring.

Dean usually tries not to let his effeminate appreciation of nature get the best of him, but he still breathes in the sweet morning air in deep, fragrant sighs.   
Of course, he is slightly more likely to enjoy Kansas's natural beauty when his own natural beauty is walking beside him, blue eyes trained on the black and yellow insects buzzing through the air. The two men were walking the trail around the hospital grounds, taking advantage o the beautiful weather and convenient visiting hours.   
Dean breathes deeply again, savoring the smell of new life.

  
"You all right there, Dean?" Castiel's deep voice in the still silence startles Dean.

  
"Yeah, just peachy. Why?"

  
Cas laughs softly, still distractedly watching the bees. "No reason, your breathing just sounds slightly Vader-ish."

  
Dean laughs and claps Cas on the back, being careful of the boy's fragile structure. "Looks like I've taught you well. The padawan becomes the Jedi!"

  
Cas smiles and ducks his head and Dean swears his heart explodes.

  
"No, man, I'm good, it's just...nature I guess. It's full of awe and potential, the balance of life and death, the way it can be destroyed by fire and rise again, it's just...beautiful." Dean says the last word looking directly into Cas's brilliant eyes.

  
Cas nods and his smile falters a bit, which confuses him.

  
"Did I say something wrong?"

  
"No, no, not at all, Dean, it's just that...well, no one has ever called me beautiful before."

  
Dean's jaw drops and he stares at Cas.

  
"What, no one? Not even your mom?"

  
Cas amends, "She was the only one. Besides you, I guess."

  
Dean feels a little burst of pride at this, but it's soon swallowed by the crushing realization of why Cas thought he was worth so little.

  
"How're these holding up?" He says, changing the subject to Cas's still-bandaged wrists.

  
Cas pulls his sleeves over his hands to hide the gauze. "Fine. They're fine."

  
Dean sighs patiently, "Can I see?"

  
He had been asking this every day since _it_ happened, and every day he had been told no.

  
Cas squirms a little before answering, "I guess,"

  
Dean's heart skips a beat, "Really?"

  
Cas nods and begins to pull up his sleeves.   
Dean mentally preps himself; he remembers all too well what his arms looked like that night.   
Cas finally finishes unwrapping the bandages and bares his arm to his former roommate.   
The cuts have healed for the most part; the doctors were not able to uses stitches because the wound had been open for too long, so the gashes running down his arms had to heal on their own.   
The skin around the cuts are still puffy and red, and the dead skin around the wound made the incisions look gangrenous and necrotic, but the thing that broke Dean's heart the most was his own name, carved into Cas's upper arm.   
Dean reaches out to touch it, gently brushing the cuts with his fingers, careful not to cause Cas any unnecessary pain.   
Cas inhales sharply at his cold touch, but allows him to ghost his thumb over the deepest wounds.

  
"Dammit, Cas..." Dean breathes, not trusting himself to say more.

  
"I know." Cas says in return, looking down ashamedly.

  
Dean draws back from his best friend's arm, fingers shaking with sadness, guilt and other unnamed emotions firing through his system.

  
"God, Cas..."

  
"I know. They're ugly. They're bad. They're going to be there forever. I get it."

  
"No, Cas, that's not what I mean at all! I was just thinking that even though you did this to yourself, even though you fucking hate who you are, you're still beautiful to me. The scars aren't, the bones sticking through your skin aren't, but you are. The fact that you can smile and laugh and talk to me, that's beautiful. You. Are. Beautiful."

  
Cas nods as he slowly re-wraps his arms and Dean can tell that he doesn't believe a word of it.

  
"Cas...can I--can I kiss you? Please?" Dean asks haltingly.

  
Cas looks up to face Dean, his blue eyes wide and his face in startled confusion.

  
"Can you do what?" He asks, disbelief evident in his voice.

  
"Look, Cas, I love you, okay? I really hope you love me too, because it would be really awkward if you didn't."

  
Cas opens mouth to say something, closing it a fraction of a second later and leaning into Dean.

 

***

 

 

_Castiel_

Their eyes lock onto each other's for a brief instant, and Cas swears time stands still. All that is real is his heartbeat pounding an arrhythmic tattoo on the inside of his ribcage, his  ability to draw breath deserts him but that's okay because Dean's forest green eyes are all he needs to survive, and the burning, agonizing desire to press his lips to Dean's and kiss him like he's never been kissed before. Cas wants this so, so bad. More than anything else in the world. The only thing he wants is Dean.

So he takes him.

Cas leans forward, Dean mirroring him, their lips meet, and finally, finally, Castiel is whole.   
Their lips touch softly at first, and Dean, the more experienced kisser, gently pulls at Cas's bottom lip with his own lips. Cas presses in again, more desperately this time. Their kisses grow deeper, more meaningful, and Cas can tell Dean has never kissed someone this way, this gently and lovingly and beautifully, as if he might break if Dean kissed him harder.   
There were no words to illustrate the feeling he felt exploding inside him, no way to communicate the burning in his chest, the hammering of his heart and the way he thought he might burst from this whirlwind of emotion he was experiencing after years of numbness and muted colors.  
All that he ever wanted was here in front of him: someone who loved him, all of him, his flaws (there were so many), his heart (broken and tear-streaked as it was), his scars (all 897), and his brokenness (which was healing with every second spent in Dean's presence).   
Castiel opens his eyes, and is surprised to see Dean staring right back at him. Cas draws back slightly in surprise, but quickly leans back in, keeping his eyes open and locked onto Dean's for a moment more, relishing the way the pine forest jaded eyes sparked with desire and love. Cas closes his eyes after a moment, because some things are meant to be felt with the heart, not seen wth the eyes.    
All too soon, the kiss ends and the two pull back.

  
"Castiel?" Dean says, his voice hoarse and husky with emotion and lust.

  
"Yes, Dean?" Cas responds, his voice matching Dean's gravelly tone. Cas tries to burn the way Dean says his full name into his mind forever.

  
"I love you."

  
Cas smiles, tears of pure joy and overwhelming exaltation pricking at his eyes. How he had dreamed, how he had prayed for someone to say that to him and actually mean it!

  
"I love you too, Dean."

  
And Cas watches, powerless to stop it, the falling of an angel.

 


	9. Chapter Nine - Crazy Illegal Shit

_Dean_

Dean sits in class next to the empty chair that Cas usually occupies. Some days the chair seems more empty than usual. Today was one of those days.   
As the teacher drones on about useless facts and dates, Dean tries to ignore the several pairs of female eyes trained on him, the owners giggling and whispering.   
It's not that Dean isn't used to having girls be attracted to him and trying to get him to sleep with them (and having always obliged), but now that he and Cas knew each other's feelings, he felt a strong sense of loyalty to the guy.  
A folded piece of paper lands on the Winchester's desk, and he looks up to see a pretty brunette--Lisa, if he remembered correctly--looking up at him through her thick lashes.

  
_A note? Seriously? What are we, 12?_

  
Dean sighs and opens the note, mostly just to humor her. As expected, a 10 digit number is written in neat little print.   
Dean mouths across the room at her, _Nope,_ and flicks the note back at her, eliciting a frustrated sigh and a pouty face from her. He has to consciously stop himself from rolling his eyes out of their sockets.  
When class let out, Lisa corners him in the hallway, her bright eyes staring up determinedly into his own.

  
"May I help you?" Dean says, raising an eyebrow.

  
"Actually, yeah, you can. Why are you ignoring me? You've been flirting with me since the beginning of the school year, and now that that emo creep who sits next to you is gone, you haven't said a word to me. Are you and him a thing or something? I knew he was gay, but you?" Lisa says angrily.

  
Dean is disoriented at first with all the accusations fired at him, but soon regains composure, "What? No! We're best friends, and he's not a creep! Or emo. Fuck off, Lisa. No wonder you can't get laid, being such a bitch all the time." he adds, his internal conflict manifesting itself in anger and desire to hurt Lisa.

  
Lisa slaps him, hard, and turns on her heel and stalks away, muttering something about boys and low standards.   
Dean sighs heavily, the absence of Cas weighing on him more than ever. _Just two more weeks till he discharges._

 

***

 

_Castiel_

 

The hospital was a boring place.

Castiel was finished with therapy for the day, and "independent recreation" was scheduled for the rest of the evening.

  
"I can't fracking believe I'm still here."

  
Cas looks up to see a tall man with dreads come over to sit by him, setting himself down heavily with mock exhaustion.

  
"You and me both, Jeremy." Cas replies, laughing a little. "Only, if I remember, I didn't set fire to a fucking house," he adds cattily.

"Dude, it was one house, and it was my ex. Don't tell me you've never wanted to do shit like that."

Cas rolls his eyes, "Wanting to do crazy-- _illegal_ shit is not the same as actually doing crazy illegal shit. I'm a practical angel compared to you."

  
"Damn straight you are," Jeremy says suggestively, tracing Cas's jawline with a skeletal finger.

  
"Man, you know the rules, no touching. Plus, your fingers are freaky thin. Go eat something and we'll talk."

  
"Nah, dude, I know you're a taken man. Yeah, I seen that blond hottie who visits you every day. Don't try to deny it."

  
"I wasn't denying anything, Jesus Christ, literally everyone here knows him." Cas says, rolling his eyes again.

  
The two are quiet for a minute, enjoying the temporary quiet of the dayroom. Cas counts in his head exactly how many more minutes he has until he gets to see Dean again:  
 _234 minutes._  
Just under 4 hours.   
He can do this.

  
"So what exactly _did_ you do to get stuck here? You depressed? You cut yourself? Or are you a psycho like me?"

  
"That sounds a little like pride to me," Cas says, trying to steer Jeremy from the topic he'd been avoiding for 2 weeks.

  
"It's not pride, it's acceptance. Don't dodge the question though. There's criteria for getting landed at Hillside. You don't just come here because you got daddy issues."

  
Cas inhales deeply, "Okay, you win. I'm depressed and I self harm. I don't eat. I throw up. I get panic attacks. Stereotypical mental patient."

  
Jeremy laughs, shaking his head and making his dreads bounce. "Dude, I thought you was a serial killer. You're pretty normal, to be honest. You got you whole life ahead of you, man! Why you in a place like this when the entire world is yours for the taking? You're smart, you're attractive, you have a boyfriend who loves you, and you have the most stable family life of anyone here. Get you head outta you ass and take you life back!"

  
Cas contemplates what Jeremy said. He supposed everything was true. He kept getting caught in these loops of negative thinking, always assuming the worst and looking at himself through a distorted filter. Coming to Hillside had really given him perspective.   
Cas looks at each of the 23 patients in turn.   
Meg. Angry and manipulative, never going to be able to have someone love her.   
Ruby. Drug dealer and heroine addict. Her body is all but ruined.   
Chuck. Literal god-complex. He's got years of recovery ahead of him.   
And now him. Castiel James Novak. A depressed, suicidal, anxious, self-loathing mess. But, in comparison, his demons were conquerable. He had the most life left to live than anyone here--if he chose to continue it.

  
"You know..." Jeremy says, breaking into Cas's revelation. "You really have got a good chance kiddo. I'm not hopeless, but I got a long way to go. You, on the other hand...everything that is wrong with you can be fixed. Scars can heal the same way the mind can. Your scars," he reaches over and pulls up Cas's sleeves, exposing the bandages, "they're gonna be there for the rest of you life. You gonna have to deal with that. But your mind? That can heal almost completely. If you work hard, if you stay out of places like this and 'work your recovery' as they say, you gon' have a great life. I can see it."

  
Cas nods, emotion filling his throat as the truth hits him. He has hope. He will beat this. He is stronger than he once thought.

  
"You should be a therapist instead of a drug dealer. You're better than Dr. Iris."

  
Jeremy laughs, shaking his head again. "Nah, man, I can't handle people whining to me all day about they problems and shit. You're not too bad, but the rest of the world? They crazy."

  
Cas laughs quietly, suddenly happy.

Suddenly hopeful.

 


	10. Welcome Home

_Castiel_

 

"Welcome home!!"

  
Castiel is greeted by half the football team and his English professor crowded into the tiny dorm.   
The noise and number of people make him flinch, but he soon smiles and runs over to Dean, who grips him tight.

  
"Dean..." Cas murmurs his name into the crook of his neck.

  
Dean tightens his hold on Cas briefly before pulling him into a deep, desperate kiss.   
The football players whoop and catcall at the couple, making Cas blush.

  
"YOOOOOOOOOO!!"

  
"GET IT DEAN, GET IT!"

  
"MY GAYBIES!!"

  
Dean pulls away, nothing but love and warmth radiating from his face.

  
"I love you."

  
"I love you too, Dean."

  
Mr. DeVault, the English professor, ushers the team out of the room as the two boys trail off to their rooms.

The two flop down on Cas's bed and curl up together, enjoying their moment of unsupervised time with each other. Dean rolls over to look at Cas, his green eyes shining with love.

  
"I love you so much, bro." Dean says, tracing Castiel's cheekbones.

  
"I love you too bro." Cas says, leaning into his touch.

  
"Bro."

  
"Bro."

  
The men giggle like children and Cas presses a kiss against his lips.   
The kiss grows deeper, more passionate, their hands roaming over each other's bodies and running through their hair.   
Cas's hand creeps up under Dean's T shirt and explores the smooth plains of Dean's muscled physique. Dean starts to mirror Cas; his hand slips under the hem of his shirt, feeling the bumpy scars and knobby bones of his ribcage when Cas briefly stops kissing, inhaling sharply at Dean's cool touch on his burning skin. Dean notices the small lapse and pulls his hand back.

  
"You okay, Cas?" He asks, his voice gravelly with desire and concern.

  
Cas nods halfheartedly before returning back to kiss Dean.  
After a while, Deans hand creeps up Cas's shirt again, making the smaller man sit bolt upright.

  
"Hey, Cas, what's up?"

  
Cas inhales shakily and says "I just...it feels weird. You touching my scars. It feels nice, but at the same time I hate myself for it. I'm sorry."

  
Dean nods, his eyes wide with sadness. "We don't have to do this if you're not ready. Hell, I shouldn't have pushed you after you just came home. I'm so sorry, Cas."

  
Cas feels a lump form in his throat and says "Dean, no. It's not your fault. I'm just being sensitive." After a moment of thought he added, "Kiss me again. Please."

  
"Are you s--" Dean is cut off by a swelling kiss.

  
Cas interrupts the kiss to pull of his shirt, desperately trying to ignore how naked and vulnerable he feels. He has to show Dean he's better now. Because he is. Right?  
Dean smiles and pulls his shirt over his head. Cas can't help but admire Dean's toned, flawless body. He looks at his own, and a sense of disappointment and self hatred rushes through him. He ignores it and presses into Dean, his fingers carding through his hair, eliciting small moans from the beautiful man.   
Dean's fingers cautiously touch and stroke Cas, gently, to make sure he doesn't hurt him.  
Suddenly, Cas feels like he can't breathe. He hates himself too much for Dean to see his scars and malnourished body. He pulls away and begins crying.

  
Dean breaks away, "Cas, buddy, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." His voice is soft and laced with sorrow. Cas is reminded just how much he _loves him._

  
"I'm trying...I'm sorry...I know you want this, _I_ want this, but...I can't. I'm sorry, Dean.." Castiel chokes out between sobs. "I'm sorry..."

  
Dean grabs Cas's shirt and pulls it over his head. Cas can sense the look of pity and hurt on his face without looking at him.

  
"It's okay. We don't have to do this. Not until you're ready. I'll never force you to do anything you're not comfortable with. I promise. Come on. It's already 8:00, let's order some pizza."

  
Cas nods quietly, grateful for this blessing of a man at a God gave him.

 

***

 

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT!"

  
Cas can hear Dean from his room all the way to the bathroom. The two had turned on to the big game that Dean wasn't playing in.

  
Cas poked his head out of the bathroom, "Is that a happy 'holy fucking shit' or an angry 'holy fucking shit'?"

  
"Dude, just come in. I can't even explain this madness to you."

  
Cas wanders to the bed where Dean is glued to a portable TV.   
Dean begins explaining to Cas the horrible calls he ref is making and how stupid the other team is, but Cas doesn't know shit about football, so he tunes out the words and listens to the way Dean's voice rumbles in his chest.   
He leans his head onto the taller man's shoulder and starts dozing. Soon he feels himself being picked up and moved, like his father did when he was a child.   
Cas pretends to be asleep as Dean lays him in the bed they shared, removing his shoes and jeans and pulling the blankets up to Cas's chin.   
Castiel smiles involuntary as a soft kiss is placed on his forehead.

  
"I love you, Cas."

  
"Love you too." He mumbles sleepily.

  
He has never slept so well in his life.

 

***

 

_Dean_

 

After laying Cas down, Dean walked over to his bed in the other bedroom and pulled out a journal he kept hidden under the box spring. It was a leather bound book with crisp pages, brand new.   
Dean flips to the newest page and writes,

_Day 43_

_Learn to love gently._

Check.

  
**\**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter is short of length, pure of heart, and dumb of ass


	11. A Brief Break in the Tales of Woe and Sadness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was written near Christmas, so lets pretend it's Christmas in July

_Dean_

 

"Merry Christmas!" 

Dean opens his eyes blearily and starts slightly when he sees two sparkling blue eyes filling his vision.

"Oh, yeah...Christmas...Merry Christmas, Cas," he says with a smile, leaning in for a kiss.

Cas jerks back, a smile playing on his oh so kissable lips. "No, you have to actually get up first."

Dean rolls his eyes, unable to fight the grin on his face. 

Cas's eyes light up and he takes Dean's hand, happy as...well, as happy as a kid on Christmas.

The main room had lights that the two strung up a few weekends ago, and a rather scraggly looking tree was propped up in the corner, weighed down with homemade ornaments.

It was a rather pathetic attempt at decorating, but Dean felt his heart swell with happiness.

"Dean," Cas said, appearing in front of him. "I got you something!"

Dean smiles hard and accepted the poorly-wrapped parcel that Cas was presenting him.

"I hope it's a dog," Dean jokes, rattling the heavy box.

"Damnit, Dean, now you've ruined the surprise!" Cas retorts, a smile betraying his scolding.

"Well, while we're at it, I have something for you, too!" Dean says, leaning into Cas's face, just barely out of reach of his lips. "And I believe you owe me a kiss."

Cas closes the gap between them and presses his lips on Dean's, melting into the other man. Dean felt a slight twinge of sadness; in a few months he would never be able to kiss Cas like this again.

He pushes the thought away, focusing on the now. Now he had Cas, now he had Christmas, now he was okay. Okay for now.

Dean ends the kiss, and retreats to his bedroom to grab the thin, neatly wrapped present that Dean hoped Cas would like.

Dean watches as Cas unwraps his present. God, he was so beautiful. His hair was wild and unruly, and a grin was present, which is something that Dean never thought he'd see on the man. With his long-sleeved, loose-fitting pajamas, Dean could almost pretend that Cas was a normal college student who eats Ramen for every meal and whose arms aren't decorated with scars and stick-thin.

"It's a CD," Cas announces, breaking Dean out of his thoughts, "Did you make it?"

Dean nods, "Yeah, it's got a lot of songs that remind me of you on it."

Cas smiles from ear to ear and hugs Dean, pressing a kiss to his cheekbone. "Now open yours," he whispers in his ear.

"Okay, angel," Dean says with a smile.

Dean tears open the gift, and grins when he sees what lays inside.

"Oh, Cas..."

Cas's smile wavers, "Do you like it?"

Oh God did he like it. It was poem, written on a photo of the two of them at the hospital. Dean didn't know who took it, but it featured a emanciated and broken Castiel, bandages wrapped thickly around each arm and several tubes jammed into the man. Next to him there was another's man--Dean--who had his head bowed and face in his hands, his face masked in grief. Dean's threat closed up, unable to breathe as the memories rushed back--a bruised and broken Cas, Crowley's smug grin, the scream of hospital equipment as Cas flatlined--but Dean pushed the thoughts away and focused on the poem:

_As I lay_

_battered_

_beaten_

_broken_

_oh so broken, my dear_

_I can hear the angels singing_

_And I think they're calling your name_

_Oh don't deceive me_

_Don't ever leave me_

_Leave me here alone_

_I tolerate a world of demons_

_For the sake of an angel_

_And the angel is you_

_It was always you_

_It is forever you, forever you my love_

_As i write_

_breathing_

_beating_

_believing_

_I hear the angels singing_

_And they're calling your name_

_Forever your name_

_Forever with me_

_Forever waiting_

_Forever for you_

_~Castiel_

"Castiel..." Dean manages to get the word out before throwing his arms around the smaller man, kissing his temple.

"So...do you like it?" Cas asks through Dean's hair.

"Dude, I love it. I'm framing that sucker."

Dean shot up, pulling Cas with him.

"Come on, dance with me, angel!"

Cas laughs, "With what music?"

"Do you like Elvis?"

Cas considers before nodding "I can dig Elvis."

"Great!" Dean pulls out his phone and sets it to a familiar tune,

_"Wise men say...._

_Only fools rush in..."_

"Do you even know how to dance?" Castiel laughs.

"Not a clue, my dear. But there's no time like the present, right?"

The two sweep around the room clumsily, laughing every time they stepped on the others toes.

_"Like a river flows_

_Surely to the sea..."_

"So, Cas," Dean starts, his hand resting on Cas's sharp hip bones. "Do you love me?"

Cas cocks his head, nonplussed, "Of course I love you Dean. Why do you ask?"

_"So take my hand....."_

Dean shrugs, "I don't know. Just making sure, I guess. Would be kind of awkward if I was the only one." 

"Hm. So do you love me?" Cas asks in return.

_"Take my whole life too..."_

"I don't know. Maybe. I'd better check," Dean smiles as he presses his lips against his roommate's. "Yep, I think I love you."

_"Because I..."_

Cas laughs, reaching his arms up and looping them around the taller man's neck. 

_"Can't...help..."_

Dean's face turns serious, and he says gently, "How're the wrists?"

Cas stiffens slightly, but answers, "They're all right."

_"Falling in love...."_

"Do I need to check?" Dean asks with a quick glance to Cas's sleeves.

"You can later if you want, but I'd rather dance a little while longer."

_"With....you....."_

Dean's smile returns to his lips, "So be it then."

In the light of the Christmas tree and the smell of pine in the air, Dean can feel himself falling harder and harder with every second that passed.

 

_Day 61_

_Love more than you did yesterday._

_Check._

 


	12. Wherever the Road Leads, There I Will Follow You

_Dean_

Dean is sitting at his desk in his small dorm room poring over a little leather bound notebook.

In this very notebook is a bucket list of things to do before the ten months are up and Dean will lose Cas forever.

On the newest page is written,

_Day 50_

_Love someone in need._

Dean sighs, thoroughly depressed by the prospect. Cas was the most obvious candidate for this particular item, but Dean was having trouble imagining what else he could possibly do to show Cas he loved him. I mean, isn't selling one's soul to the king of Hell himself be enough??

 _What about Sammy?_ Dean considers.

Dean has to admit, he's been neglecting his kid brother. Maybe he should call him up today. Or even better, utilize his Christmas break and pay him a visit.

Dean felt uneasy when he thought about leaving Cas alone, but even more uneasy about bringing his boyfriend home to a strictly traditional father.

Dean jumps when he feels breath whisper in his ear, and is pleasantly surprised when he turns to see a blue eyed beauty in his face.

"Cas, dude, personal space. We've talked about this," he jokes, but leans further towards Cas to kiss him, closing the journal while his boyfriend is distracted.

Dean disengages first, "Hey, Cas--"

Cas kisses him again, cutting him off, smiling into the Winchester's lips. "Yeah?"

Dean pushes him back lightly, his voice taking on a serious tone.

"No, Cas, listen."

Cas pulls back, visibly concerned. "Are you okay? Is this about you wanting to check me? I'm clean, don't worry," he reaches for his frayed sleeves, pulling them up halfway before dean stops him.

"No, dude, you're fine. I trust you. This is about Sammy."

Cas nods, shaking his sleeves back into place. "Yeah? Is he all right? You told me he was like me...is he not doing well?"

Dean shakes his head, "No, that was years ago. He was about 13 at the time when it was worst. I just feel like I've been neglecting him; I haven't called him since the day you were admitted. I want to drive down and see him."

Cas nods enthusiastically. "Yeah, sure. Do what you need to, he's your brother. Anything for family, right?" His voice drops when he says the last bit, but he recovers. "What's holding you back?"

Dean inhales sharply, getting right to the point. "To be honest, I don't feel like I can leave you alone. I know, you're clean," he adds when he sees Cas's mouth part to interject. "but I know that you get night terrors and that you're only a few weeks clean, and I just don't feel comfortable leaving you behind. What if I left and came back to something horrible? I can't take that risk."

Cas nods slowly. "So...what are you suggesting?"

"How about you come with me? Meet the family, chew the fat, do some male bonding or whatever people do when they bring their boyfriend home."

Cas breaks into a smile, which lights up Dean's heart. "Yeah, sure! That'd be great! I'd love to meet Sam and your dad and--" Cas's face falls when he realizes. "Oh...he doesn't know about me, does he? About us..."

Dean sucks his teeth. "Yep. That's the main issue."

"Well, you want to know what I think? Fuck it. He's going to have to find out some time, and I'd rather it be on our terms, you know? What's the worst he'll do?"

Cas must have been able to see the fear on Dean's face because he quickly backtracks, "Never mind. From what you've told me, he's kind of an ass. But don't let that get in the way. I love you, and hopefully you love me--it would makes things awkward if you didn't, haha--and so we can get through this. I want to do this. I want to be more than your secret lover, Dean. I want to meet your family and be friends with your kid brother, and I want us to be real, you know?"

Dean nods, the decision settled. "How about you go and pack, and we can leave tomorrow morning?"

Cas nods back, a smile playing on his lips as he exits the room.

***

**~the next morning~**

_Castiel_

"You ready?" Dean shouts from his room, throwing on his jacket and hefting Cas's small suitcase into the scant pile of stuff they were taking with them.

"Aye, aye, Captain!" Cas shouts, laughing.

"Okay, no more cartoons for you. Spongebob references are where I draw the line, my friend." Dean rolls his eyes, smiling nonetheless.

After about 30 minutes of driving, the two pull up to the Winchester's house.

Cas takes a deep breath, forcing his anxiety down. He has to appear somewhat stable for Dean's family. He pulls his sleeves down, scratching at his forearms through the fabric of his trench coat.

Dean opens the door, shouting a greeting to his brother, who was at the top of the stairs.

"Dean!" Sam flies down the stairs, throwing a bear hug at his brother.

"Shit, Sammy, you've grown like three inches!" Dean says incredulously.

"Yeah, someday I'll be taller than you!" Sam teases.

"Not gonna happen, kiddo." Dean ruffles Sam's hair.

"Hey, is this Cas?" He says, peering at the man still standing on the doorsteps.

Cas nods, unsure what do to with his hands, "Yeah. And you're the famous Sammy Winchester?" He tries to throw in a joke to break the ice.

Suddenly, everyone goes quiet as a gruff man enters the room, swaying a little.

Cas opens his mouth to greet him, but is cut off by Dean.

"Hey, Dad. Um...this is Castiel. He's...he's my boyfriend. I, ah, thought I could bring him by to meet you, and--"

"He's your boyfriend?" John slurs, visibly angered.

"Um, yeah. Jesus, Dad, it's only 11am. A little early to be toasted, you think?" Dean snaps back, emotion boiling to the surface.

"Shut up, kid. I didn't raise you to be a back-talker as well as a fag."

Cas watches as Dean steps back, wounded.

"Actually, Mr. Winchester--" he tries to interject, but John interrupts.

"Shut up, queer. I'm talking to my son, if I can even call him that anymore," John sneers at Cas.

Cas feels tears prick at his eyes. How could things be going so bad already?

 _It's because of you, you idiot. You always manage to fuck things up somehow_. Cas's vicious inner voice scathes. He forces it to shut the hell up, because there are currently higher priorities than his self esteem.

"You know what? Fine. I'll leave. I came down here to say hello to Sammy and to introduce the love of my life, not to ask for your permission like I'm some goddamn kid!" Dean shouts at his father, his face a spectacular shade of red.

Suddenly, things move too fast for Cas to see and the next thing he knows Dean is knocked across the room, his hand clutching his left cheek.

"I don't fucking care if he's the 'love of your life'," John shouts back, "he isn't welcome here and neither are you until you get your shit together and stop fucking around with faggots!"

Anger flares in Cas's chest, heat rushing to his face.

"Look, John," Cas hisses, eyes narrowing with hatred, "I can respect you for being the man who fathered my boyfriend, but I can't stand for you hurting him any more. We're leaving, and we won't back--"

Cas hears a dull thump and goes flying across the room, a red hot flower blossoming in his cheek.

"All you faggots better get the hell out of my house!" John roars, his intimidation slightly muted by his swaying body.

Dean flashes a look of murder at his father before helping Cas up, momentarily exposing his wrists.

"Cas..." Dean whispers as he catches sight of one of the cuts that slid into view. "Why...?"

Cas shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, mouthing later at him.

The two stand to leave when Sam, almost forgotten in the chaos, clears his throat.

"Well, I guess that's me too, isn't it?" He says, plastering a watery smile on his face.

John whirled around as all three men say, "What?!"

Sam nodded, his face set in stone. "Yep. No room for fags here, better pack my bags. I'll miss you." He adds sarcastically.

Cas looks from Dean to Sam to John, confusion buzzing in his brain.

"You're gay?" Dean asks disbelievingly.

"Trust me, it's not how I wanted you to find out," Sam says bitterly.

John breaks out of his stupor and yells again, demanding every fag leave his house immediately.

"Pack your stuff, Sammy," Dean says quietly. "You can stay with me and Cas until we figure something out."

Sam's face is washed with relief, and Cas experiences a surge of love for Dean and his selflessness.

"I'm leaving, and when I get back every HIV infected, cock-sucking, scum of the earth queer better be off my property before I pump them full of lead!" John roars, storming off to his car dressed in just a dingy bathrobe and slippers.

Dean inhales and Cas watches as his face changes to big-brother mode, full protectiveness engaged. It was pretty hot, actually.

"Okay, I don't know how long he'll be gone, so let's get your stuff, Sammy, and I'll work something out with the college dean. I'm legally an adult, so they should let you stay with me, probably not on campus though. All right?" Dean smiles warmly at his brother as he hurries up the stairs.

"Cas..." Dean turns to face his roommate with a sad expression on his freckled face.

"I know, Dean. I'm sorry. I was stressed last night, and I...I honestly don't have a good excuse. I'm sorry," Cas hangs his head, guilt and self hatred coursing through his system.

Dean nods and sighs defeatedly. "It's okay. We'll figure something out. May I ask what you did it with?"

Cas opens his mouth to reply but is interrupted by Sam clunking down the stairs with his suitcase.

"Okay. I'm ready."

"That fast?" Dean asks incredulously.

"Yep. I've had it packed for a few months now, I just had to add a couple things to it." Sam's face is grim, all happiness gone.

"All right. Well, that's settled. You okay?"

Sam nods, but his tear filled eyes betray him.

"Come here," Dean opens up his arms and Sam doesn't hesitate before running into them, and Cas is sure this is only one of many times Dean had to pick up the pieces that John broke Sam into.

Cas stands there awkwardly until the two disengage, Sam managing to smile a little more.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, who's the lucky guy?" Dean asks, a smile resting on his perfect lips.

Sam blushes dark red before stuttering, "H-his name is Gabe."

Cas does a double take, "Gabriel Novak?"

"Yeah, how'd you....shit!" Sam exclaims, "He's your brother?!"

Dean looks at the two of them before he busts out laughing. "Jesus fucking Christ, I don't even know what to say!"

Dean stops laughing as he realizes something, "Wait, how old is Gabe? He's Cas's older brother..."

Cas hurries to clarify before Dean can accuse his brother of pedophilia.

"Dean, Gabe is only one year older than me. I'm almost 18, I started college early. He's almost 19, and Sam is 16. It's about three years age difference, and in Kansas consent age requirement is 16 years of age when having intercourse with someone under 19. It's perfectly legal." Cas explains, hoping to settle things down.

"Jesus, Cas, who said anything about intercourse?!" Sam exclaims, his face turning beet red. "He's just my boyfriend. Plus, I'm ace, so that kinda rules that kind of thing out."

"Asexual, meaning no feelings of sexual attraction," Cas clarifies for Dean, who looks thoroughly confused.

"And how did you know all that about consent laws?" Dean sputters out.

"I knew Gabe was seeing someone younger than him, but he wouldn't tell me who. I just researched for him so he wouldn't get in trouble should he choose to have relations with his partner." Cas says. "Everything is all right, Dean."

Dean is quiet for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. He gives up, clapping his hands together and says, "Hey, how about we go out and have some pie? I would kill for a slice of apple pie, how about you guys?"

Sam nods enthusiastically along with Cas, the latter's stomach twisting at the thought of eating.

The three suddenly fall quiet when they hear John's car rumble in the driveway.

"Shit, guys, let's go!" Sam yelps, grabbing his suitcase and flying into the backseat. The car squeals out of the driveway and back to safety.

_Day 50_

_Love someone in need._

Check.

 


	13. Long Goodbyes

_amuel_

 

"Cas, come here."

The youngest Winchester calls for Castiel, his eyes never leaving the screen in front of him. Dean and Cas managed to scrape up enough money for a used X-Box to make Sam's Christmas less crappy. Sam, of course, loved it.

The Novak sits down heavily on the mattress that Sam used as a bed. The college Dean allowed Sam to stay on campus, provided Dean paid for an extra person. Sam helped out when he could; he and Gabe found a job at a candy store in the mall.

The two talk over the Minecraft game that Sam was playing, neither knowing much about video games but thoroughly enjoying themselves. Sam decided he likes Cas a lot.

"Hey...Cas..um..." Sam says unsteadily, unsure of what he was going to say, or how to say it. 

Sam can see Cas begin to inflate with anxiety, so he hurries to complete his thought.

"It's nothing huge, but Dean...he asked me to talk to you. He said he wasn't very good with the kind of thing we went through, so he thinks that maybe I'll do a better job of talking to his boyfriend than he would." Sam snorts, rolling his eyes at the typical obtuseness of his brother.

Cas nods slowly, turning to face the younger boy. He plasters a smile on his face that Sam can tell is fake.

"Well, I'm not sure what he wanted me to do, but he just told me to tell you that if you can't talk to him for any reason, then you can always talk to me. Sometimes the boyfriend dynamic gets in the way of friendship, so I just want you to know I'm here. If you and Dean get in a fight, or you can't talk to him about something,  I'm here. So...we good?"

Cas nods again. "I think so. Thanks, Sam." He smiles warmly, and Sam is happy to think he did something right for once.

 

***

 

_Castiel_

 

Cas really loved Dean's room.

There was next to nothing on the walls, and very little clutter, but on his desk there was a photo of the two of them sharing a kiss in front of the university gates. A very unhappy Sam had to take that picture; the boy was typically not one for sappy photo shoots. Neither was Dean, apparently, but that picture says differently.

There was also a curious little leather bound notebook that was wedged between the mattress and box spring. 

Cas found it interesting that Dean would be the kind to journal, so he plucked up the journal and began to read it. Dean wouldn't mind, he was sure; they shared everything.

_300 Day Bucket List_

That's odd. Cas never took Dean for the type to have a bucket list, of all things. And 300 days is about ten months...what happens in ten months?

_Day One - Save a life.  ✔️_

_Day Two -  Kiss someone new.  ✔️_

_Day Three - Take a risk. ✔️_

As Cas reads, he's struck by a odd sense of déjà vu. Hadn't Dean done all this with him? 

He flips forward a few pages.

_Day 33 - Feel deeply. ✔️_

_Day 34 -  Give something up. ✔️_

Cas starts feeling a bit uneasy. This sounded an awful lot like a countdown. _To what, is the question..._  Cas wonders.

The last completed entry was for _Day 61_ , which was _Make a memory._ Just yesterday they had gone to the ice rink and taken heck tons of pictures. For posterity, Dean said. Cas remembers feeling grateful for the cold to hide the rush of blood to his face when Dean winked at him after making that remark.

Cas goes to close the book when he sees a slip of white paper packed tightly between the pages. With a sense of unease, he pulls it out, the paper crinkling in protest.

 _Dear Castiel,_ it read, 

_First things first: I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. Never forget that, my darling, never._

_Second: everything I have done since the moment I met you has been out of love. Everything. Even this._

_When you were in the hospital after you tried to kill yourself, I was so alone. So very scared and alone. But then someone gave me hope._

_Someone named Crowley told me that he could fix you if I gave him something of mine. I gave it to him, and he fixed you._

_I saw you, Cas, all wired in and barely breathing and it broke my heart. I was there when you flatlined, and I watched you die. But Crowley fixed you. And I had to give him what I gave him for you to live._

_I am dying, Cas. As I write this, I can feel my cells decaying, I can feel my life leaving me. I have ten months, and that's it. So here's a 300 day bucket list to right all the wrongs I have done in my life. When you read this, I will be gone. But you won't be._

_And the most important thing, Castiel, is--_

"Cas. What are you..."

Cas's head snaps up in time to see a look of horror cross his boyfriend's face as he realizes what he's doing.

Dean crosses the room in three strides and snatches the journal and paper, tearing the latter.

"Oh, Cas, how far did you read? You weren't supposed to see that..." Dean says, panic in his features.

Now Cas is angry. "Supposed to see what, Dean, your fucking suicide note?!"

Dean runs his free hand through his hair, tears glistening in his eyes. "It's not a suicide note, Cas, it's...it's an explanation."

"An explanation for what, exactly? What did you give to Crowley, Dean?"

Dean buries his face in his hands, sobs wracking his muscular shoulders. Cas felt no pity for him, though. Not after he had done the thing that he had fought so hard to keep Cas from doing.

Dean whispers something, too soft for Cas to hear.

"What? What did you give him, Dean?"

Dean looks up, tears reddening his eyes. "My soul...I gave him my soul, Cas."

Castiel is stunned, not expecting that answer. "You gave him your...soul? What the hell does that mean?"

"Crowley is the King of Hell. He said in exchange for your life, I give my soul. And I agreed."

Cas opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water, unable to form intelligible words. "What the _fuck_  does that mean? You can't just give your soul to whatever asshat asks for it, it's physically impossible, and this is assuming that souls even exist."

Dean looked at Cas with pleading eyes, torment twisting his features. "You don't understand, Cas. You weren't there. He touched me on the forehead and then we were instantly in your room, like teleportation, I swear. He snapped his fingers when I declined the offer, and you started to die. When you flatlined, that was Crowley. I accepted, and you stabilized."

Cas scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. "Dean, I don't know what kind of acid trip you're on, but that did not happen. I was dying because I tried to kill myself, and dying is a normal thing that a body does when you sever the radial artery. And if you're telling the truth, who the hell said I wanted to be saved? I slit my wrists for a reason, Dean, and not a day goes by that I don't regret you finding me."

Dean is silent as sobs wrack his body, and Cas feels a bit of guilt niggling at him, but pushes it away.

"You don't...you don't mean that Cas...what about me? What about us? Do you regret that, too?"

Cas glares at Dean. "Sometimes I do. Why do you think I tried to kill myself? I'm no good for you, and I'm not worth it. No one is worth the shit we've been through."

Dean looks into Cas's eyes, and the dark haired man can feel the emotions catching up with him. 

"Please, Cas...don't say that. Please don't say that. You are worth it. You are worth everything in the world."

Cas snorts, tears burning at the back of his eyes. "Who are you to decide? Who the hell gets to decide what someone is worth?"

Dean scoffs, "No one. Not you, for sure. Not me either, but I am the one to decide if I want you. I want you. I love you. I want you, all of you, every side. Why the hell would I sell my soul to the King of Hell? I don't do it for kicks. I did it for you. Everything I've done since the day I met you has been for you. You know that."

"This is too far, Dean. You've crossed the line. How am I supposed to live with this? How am I supposed to be okay with the fact I've sentenced the man I love to eternal torture just because I'm a fucked up mess who made a mistake? I wish I had died, Dean. I wish I never met you."

Dean's face is contorted with grief, his apple green eyes shining with tears. "Cas...you can't possibly mean that, not--"

"Who the FUCK gets to decide what I mean?! I wish I had never run into you outside this dorm, I wish I would have died that night, I wish I would have died when I was 13 when I first attempted, I wish you had never had the misfortune of getting attached to me!" Castiel yells, shaking with rage. He infuriated by the fact that he had fucked up this bad. Anger is a secondary emotion but it was all he could feel now.

Sammy poked his head in the door, fear crossing his face when he sees the two arguing. "Are you guys oka--"

"Not now, Sam. Get out. Go to the library, I'll come get you when this is smoothed over." Dean tells his brother.

Cas scoffs, shaking his head. "This is never going to be 'smoothed over'. I never want to see you again, Dean. Live your ten months with someone who deserves you. We're done."

Dean's is stricken by shock, his color drained from his face as his eyes glaze over. "Cas..."

"No, Dean. We. Are. Over. I'm packing my things tomorrow, and I'm going to go to a different college. I was offered a scholarship there, and I'm sure they'll accept me." Cas says coldly, his face set in stone.

 

The love of Dean's life walks out the door without a glance back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very, so very aware of the fact that this is Not How College Works, but I wrote this at like 14 or 15 and I had no idea what college was like. if I had to do this again it would be better since I'm shipping off in a month and a half, so I have a better idea of it. anyway. hope you enjoyed despite the inaccuracy!


	14. Home

_Castiel_

_**~several months later~** _

 

Graduating from college seems like a great idea until you realize you don't know how to be an adult.

Castiel stares at his diploma. He had worked hard to get it; he completed high school a year early and managed to complete his first year of college in the summer after he graduated, and now here it was. A sheet of paper with his name in fancy letters.

He could do a lot of things now that he had this paper, but somehow it didn't seem as substantial as he once dreamed. The hollow, empty feeling that he felt so often threatened to consume him.

He glances at the calendar. June 8th, 2017. Two months until the little red X on the calendar means something.

Cas tries to push it out of his head; he and Dean were done. He had messed up bad, but Dean crossed a line that there was no going back from. 

Cas buries his head in his hands, inhaling shakily. The last few months have been really hard on him, his depression was back in full force. Only one thing kept it at bay, and Cas had pushed him away.

"You should really call him, you know."

Cas's head snaps up, his features relaxing when he saw his friend Meg at the door of his apartment. The two had tried to date, but they both knew who had Castiel's heart. They managed to stay friends, but Cas always knew she was still pining after him.

"You've told me that almost every day this week," Cas says, his face back into his palms. "Not going to do it, Meg. It's been too long. What if he has a girlfriend? What if he doesn't want to see me?"

Meg scoffs, rolling her eyes. "What if, what if, what if. If he has a girlfriend, she can suck it. If he doesn't want to see you, then you can say you tried."

Cas smiles despite himself. "Meg, you make it sound so easy..."

Meg sits down on the bed beside him, slightly too close for it to be platonic, but Cas decides to chalk it up to her trying to be comforting.

"Cas...I know you love him. That's why we didn't work out. You honestly expect me to believe that you don't care about him anymore? He's got two months left, Cas. Go see him. If you don't, you'll hate yourself forever. I'll house-sit for you, I'll make sure your cats get enough food, and I'll pick up the mail and shit. You have no good reason not to go."

Cas runs his hands through his hair, inhaling through his nose. "You're right. I have no good excuse. I'll plan on going soon."

Meg exhales sharply in exasperation, "That's what you say every time. I'll help you pack tonight, and I'll drive you to the airport. Massachusetts to Kansas is what, 3 hours away? Plenty of time to plan what you want to say."

Cas snorts lightly, a bitter smile on his face, "I've been planning what I want to say to him for half a year."

Meg grins, flashing him a thumbs up as she exited his room.

Cas shakes his head.  _What have I gotten myself  into...._

 

_***_

 

_Dean_

 

For the third time this week, Dean Winchester was slam-dunk drunk and covered in women.

Through blurred vision, he could see all three women start to get dressed. 

"Shit, is it morning already?" Dean slurs, standing and swaying.

"Sure is, sunshine." One of the prostitutes said sweetly, carrying a thick southern drawl.

"The money is on my dresser...g'bye...Rachel, was it?"

The southern girl's mouth twitches in annoyance. "It's Sarah. Rachel came two days ago."

Dean nods, a headache setting in his temples. "Sorry...it's too early for this shit..."

One of the women, a short, busty brunette rolls her eyes and mimes slashing her wrists in annoyance. 

"Hey!" Dean barks, his head clearing enough for his heart to clench in sadness. "Don't...don't do that...please..."

The brunette--Amelia, was it?--seems surprised, but apologizes, slipping on her leather jacket and pocketing the hundred dollar bill on the dresser.

Whatever high Dean was feeling from the sex and alcohol was gone, only a burning despair left eating away at him. For the millionth time he curses himself for the stupidity of his past self.

Dean lies back down, rubbing his eyes with his fingers and then running his hands through his mussed hair. God, what he wouldn't give for a do-over.

"Hey, Dean, there's someone at the door for you." Dean hears the third prostitue call for him from the kitchen. 

"Jesus, it's 11:00 in the morning, who the hell..." Dean freezes when he sees a familiar face standing nervously in the doorway, clutching the cuffs of his jacket and tilting his head in a way that knocks the breath out of Dean.

"Hi." Castiel says, the tension so thick you could cut it. 

Dean's mouth opens and closes like a fish, searching fruitlessly for something to say.

Cas clears his throat nervously, and gestures with a nod of his head to the escort standing next to Dean. "Um...is this your...girl..friend..?"

Dean's face flushes red as the girl with dyed blonde hair laughs teasingly.

"Oh honey, this man couldn't afford me. I work for the escort company on 62nd Street. I only see Dean every few weeks."

Cas's face reddens, and Dean can tell he's holding back tears.

"Oh this is getting really awkward, I think I'll see myself out...same time next week, Dean?" The prostitute says on her way out the door.

"Actually, no, Veronica....I don't think I'll be able to...." Dean says slowly, his eyes never leaving Cas.

"It's Judy, but whatever. And maybe if you learn our names we'll do something extra for you next time," Judy says with a sexy smile.

"Can you just shut the hell up and leave? This is a really bad time for this. Fuck off, whatever your name is." Dean snaps, his heart twisting in his chest when he sees Cas look down at the ground, clutching his sleeve cuffs tightly--be it out of habit or because he hurt himself again, Dean didn't know.

Judy looks annoyed, but leaves.

"I'm so sorry about that Cas, I--" Dean tries to say, but Cas cuts him off.

"Dean. Stop." 

Dean runs his hands through his sex hair and exhales. "What are you doing here?"

Cas narrows his eyes at his ex. "Oh I'm just paying a friendly visit, I was just passing though and decided to fly three hours out of my way to see an old friend, who, may I add, is shitfaced and smells like a whorehouse." His voice is dripping with sarcasm, and every syllable hits Dean like a bullet to the heart.

"Cas...." Dean protests weakly, swaying slightly.

"I don't know what I came here to do, but there was no way, in all the scenes that have played out in my head, that it would be like this." 

"Cas, please...."

"Don't call me that. My name is Castiel and only my boyfriend gets to call me Cas. Funny thing is that I don't have one anymore." Cas seethes, lightening sparking in his stormy eyes.

Dean squeezes his eyes shut, tears leaking through his lashes and dripping off his nose as he hung his head. "I'm sorry, Ca--Castiel...please, just hear me out, buddy.."

Cas runs his hands through his dark hair, clenching his fists. "There's nothing to hear out, Dean. I walked out on you because I made a mistake and you made a bigger one. Now you're heartbroken and you deal with it by getting toasted and sleeping with half the town. Am I wrong?"

Dean's shoulders shake as he quietly sobs. He had fucked up. He fucked up so bad.

"I'm sorry....I'm so, so sorry Castiel. I loved you. I still do."

Dean looks up in time to see Cas grab his face and kiss him desperately, their hands entangled in each other's hair, the kisses so longing and passionate that Dean's heart felt as if it would burst.

When Castiel detached, Dean is left breathless and speechless.

"So...does this mean...?" Dean says slowly, unsure.

"It means I forgive you. I'm still angry and hurt, don't get me wrong, but I forgive you. We all make mistakes of different magnitudes, but what are we if not in love?" Castiel smiles, tears glistening in his sapphire irises.

"Oh Castiel...." Dean says, grateful behind belief.

"You don't have to call me that if you don't want to. I'd prefer it if you didn't, actually." Cas says warmly.

"O..okay..." Dean says, his heart so happy that it hurt.

"So...where do you want to go?" Cas asks.

"Anywhere but here," Dean says, "let me get dressed and I'll take you out to eat. Are you...are you still having trouble with that?" He adds quietly.

Cas inhales, his ears burning with embarrassment. "Kind of....I went to an eating disorder clinic while I was away and it's sort of better. I'll eat with you though. How does Dairy Queen sound?"

Dean smiled, "Anything for you, angel."

"Dean...we're still going to have to talk about this, okay?" Cas presses, slight desperation in his voice.

"I know, Cas, I know. Can we discuss it over some ice cream, though? I really missed you."

"Me too, Dean. Me too."

 

 


	15. Gabriel

_Castiel_

 

Cas stares at his Blizzard, thoroughly uninterested in his food. It's not that he was still having trouble eating (although he was), it's just that he was sick to his stomach about the man sitting across from him.

"You gonna eat that or just give it _el ojo_?" Dean asks him jokingly, trying to lighten the somber mood.

Cas looks up, a smile turning the corners of his mouth up. "Where'd you learn that phrase? ' _El ojo_ '? That's Spanish for 'the evil eye'"

"Eh, I took up a Spanish course so I could translate everything you've called me earlier this year." Dean said with a shrug, smiling.

Cas turns bright red, remembering the suggestive things he told Dean as a joke in Spanish, knowing the man wouldn't understand.

"For example, did you know ' _Te ves bien de rodillas_ ' means 'you look good on your kn--"

"Check please!" Cas frantically waves down a waiter while Dean cracks up.

 

***

 

"So..." 

"So." Cas echos Dean as they both sit in the Impala.

Dean laughs nervously, running his hands through his hair. Cas notices that it's gotten much longer.

"I don't even know where to start. I didn't even think I'd get this far."

Cas exhales, unaware that he had been holding his breath. "Well, I guess we can start with an apology on my part."

"Cas, you have nothing to--"

"Yes, I do, Dean," Cas interrupts, "God, I was so stupid. I had the world in front of me and I chose to throw it away. I'm still not 100% better, but I'm well enough to know I made a gargantuan mistake. And the way I treated you when we broke up...it was really out of line. I'm sorry."

Dean nods, digesting his boyfriend's words. "I don't think it was out of line. I did something incredibly stupid and dangerous and unnecessary and I deserved everything you said to me. I'm sorry. I would do it again, though. The only thing I regret is how much I hurt you."

Cas stares at a spot on the dashboard, his mind a cacophony of thoughts and questions. One part of him was elated that he was back with Dean, the other part of him was still furious and hurt that Dean had done this to save him. To save him, of all people. The broken and useless creature that was Castiel.

"I accept your apology. It's not okay, what we both did, but forgiving each other means that we let go of the weight in our shoulders. We don't have that kind of power over each other once we forgive. I am sorry, and I know you are too. I love you, and I know we can make it through." Cas says, sliding his hand across the seat and squeezing Dean's. 

Dean breathes a sigh of relief. "Okay. That's good. I'm really glad. I forgive you too, Cas."

Cas smiles at him and reaches over to kiss him. "I'm glad too. I'm going to go to Manhattan and get my stuff. I actually managed to get my associates already, so I'll go back to school next year and try for a bachelors. I didn't really tell my family I left, so I should come back anyway. Are we okay?"

Dean laughs softly, "Yeah Cas, I think we're okay." 

 

***

**~two weeks later~**

 

_Samuel_

 

"Cas!" 

Castiel is greeted by Dean's not-so-little little brother, a smile stretched across his features. 

"Jesus, Sam, you've grown like 3 inches, what the hell," Cas laughs, pulling the youngest Winchester into a hug.

"Castiel."

Cas freezes, his eyes travelling upwards to see his older brother Gabriel staring at him.

"Oh...hi, Gabriel. Um...." Cas falters, his ears burning in shame when he saw the look on his face.

"Where the _hell_ were you, Castiel?" Gabe barks, anger seeping out of his pores. "The last time I heard from you was almost nine months ago and you were in a fucking hospital half-dead and I was worried _sick_ about you! I would have gone to see you if I wasn't balls deep in family stuff!

"Did it occur to you, at all, to call us, to text us, to let us know you weren't on the side of the road somewhere bleeding out? I covered for you for a while, I know how you hate us getting involved in your life, but eventually I broke down and told Mom and Dad that I had no earthly clue where you were. Anna wouldn't stop asking about you, Michael lost his job because he was trying to find you, and Raphael just took off and told us that he didn't want to witness the family fall apart again. Hell, when _Luci_ caught wind of this, he actually came over to the house to help us find you. Of course, that didn't go well, but you need to fucking understand that when you do this kind of shit, _it doesn't just affect you._  It kills all of us. We thought you were dead, Castiel."

Cas looked so small, so broken now. His eyes were downcast and glistening and he clutched his coat cuffs as if they were the one thing grounding him.

"I'm sorry." Cas whispers.

Gabe snorts, "You're sorry. That's all you have for me? Not 'gee, Gabe, I feel terrible about taking off like that', not 'I understand how much this kills you, let me put it right', just _sorry_?!"

Dean cuts in, "Look, Gabe, he's sorry. He never meant for this to happen. It's all my fault. We got into a fight and he took off. I thought you guys knew, and I'm sorry. Any way that we can make up to you, we'll do it."

Sam felt terrible. All those times that Gabe was over and asked him about Cas, he lied. He lied to his boyfriend to keep his brother safe. God, did he screw up.

"And you!" Gabe whirls on Sam, as if reading his mind, "You lied to me! Every fucking day, I asked you if you knew where my brother was, and every day you said you didn't know. That's kind of a deal breaker for me."

Sam inhaled sharply, his stomach clenching when he realized the implications of Gabe's last sentence. "Are we...?" 

"I don't know what we are yet. I'm too angry to think straight. Cas, you're coming home with me and you're explaining yourself." Gabe snaps, his eyes looking more tired than they ever have.

"Gabe--" Dean protested.

"No, Dean. It's fine. Gabriel is right. I need to fix this. I'll see you later, Dean. I love you, okay?" Cas says quietly, briefly touching Dean's hand as Gabe escorted him out of the dorm.

"I love you too..." Dean says to himself as he watches Gabe angrily open the car door for his younger brother.

Sam comes to stand next to Dean. "Do you ever think things will be okay again?" 

"I don't know, Sammy. I hope so." Dean says, his voice shaking.

"I hope so too." Sam says, leaning into his brother to feel his warmth and to ground himself. That was one thing he always loved about Dean. He was strong, solid, and loved him more than anything. He watches Gabe and Cas speed off into the night, never knowing if he would see his boyfriend again.

Sam didn't know what a truly broken heart felt like until then.

 


	16. What Now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im posting the next 6 chapters in one go, pray for me y'all

_Chuck Novak_

 

"I told you, Chuck, and you didn't listen!" Mrs. Novak hisses through her teeth at her husband. "I told you he wasn't ready to be left alone to his own devices, I told you that he should stay at home and go to school during the day and come back at night!"

"Becky, he's a grown man for God's sake! Excuse me for thinking that an 18 year old man can handle himself." Mr. Novack says sarcastically.

"That's the thing, he is grown, but you know he's different, you know what he struggles with and he obviously wasn't ready for this!" 

"I'm sorry! I thought he could do this. I thought that he could beat this, and when I heard about Dean I was ecstatic because I thought he could help Castiel. I don't know what you want me to do." Mr. Novak says defeatedly.

"I want you to go up there and make him sure that he is loved." Mrs. Novak says, her eyes pleading with her husband.

"How in the hell do I do that?!" Mr. Novak says frustratedly.

"You'll figure something out, Chuck, you always do. Now go."

Mr. Novak sighs and begins to climb up the stairs to his son's bedroom.

He stops by his door, bringing his hand up hesitantly and knocking on the door with his first two knuckles.

"Hey, Castiel..." Mr. Novak falters, "Can I...can I come in? Please?"

Silence for a moment, then Mr. Novak rejoices when he hears footsteps crossing the room.

The door cracks open to reveal a emotionless face, and his dad's stomach clenches in worry when he sees the lack of feeling. Castiel has a habit of shutting down emotionally when he is stressed, but Mr. Novak thought he had long outgrew it.

"What do you want, Dad?" Cas says in a monotone, confirming his father's suspicions.

"I just...can I come in?" He asks again.

Cas doesn't say a word, but he walks back into his room and sits on the bed, leaving the door open for his father to come in.

Mr. Novak sits next to his son, wracking his brain for words.

"I just want to say, Castiel, that...I'm proud of you, oaky?"

Castiel looks up, slightly puzzled, "You're proud of me for running away like a coward?"

"No, not about that," he says, "I meant I'm proud of who you are. What you've become. What you managed to survive going through. I was really hesitant to let you go to college and stay in a dorm away from home, and it looks like it was completely justified, but I know I can't change your mind. You're 18 years old, Castiel. You're not that tiny baby that I held so many years ago. You've got a life, and a boyfriend that loves you, and a family who loves you too. You've gotten a degree, you've built your life out of the shambles given to you, and on top of that, you did it all while battling a mental war."

Cas nods slowly, processing. "Thank you."

Mr. Novak refrains from sighing, he could obviously tell Cas wasn't computing it properly. He hopes when he leaves his son will go back to it and know he was being sincere.

"Okay, I'll leave you alone now. I love you, okay?" Mr. Novak says.

"Okay. I love you too Dad." Cas says robotically, staring straight ahead at his wallpaper.

His dad gets up and leaves, careful to latch the door on his way out. He knew Cas liked his privacy, and he had checked the room for razors before Cas came home.

***

_Castiel_

It was so much easier not to feel.

Shutting down and becoming an emotionless robot was quite appealing to him, but he had that nagging voice of common sense yelling at him to wake up and call Dean, to let him know he's okay.

Slowly Cas stands up, his joints popping in protest. He pulls out his phone and sends a text to Dean,

_Hey Dean, just wanted to let you know I'm all right. I'll see if I can swing by later to see you guys. I love you, okay?_

Cas sighs and buries his face in his hands. God, when would he ever stop fucking things up? He should have told someone where he was going, it wasn't fair that Sam had to lie to his boyfriend to keep his brother's boyfriend safe, he should never have hesitated when he slit his wrists that night. Maybe if he had died that night things would be better now, Dean wouldn't have to go to Hell for eternity, he would be out of his misery, and all would be well. Dean would get over him. Sam would get over him. Gabriel would too, and so would his siblings.  His parents? It might be hard on them, but he would be forgotten eventually. 

_Why didn't I cut deeper? I'm such a coward...._

 


	17. Together Again

_Castiel_

 

Castiel jiggles the doorknob, cursing under his breath as the lock sticks. He hears a loud crash, and briefly steps back as the door opens and a familiar form throws itself at him, engulfing him in the scent of Dean and the body of Dean and the laugh of Dean and Dean--

"Hey!" Cas chuckles as he buries his face into his boyfriend's AC/DC shirt, inhaling deeply.

The two stay locked together, each squeezing the other as if they wouldn't see each other ever again.

_That's gonna be true in a few weeks....._

Cas pushes the thought out of his mind. Dean was here, in his arms, where he belongs, and that's all that matters right now.

Cas breaks the hug, pulling back and kissing Dean lightly before smiling and saying,

"What was that crash I heard?" 

Dean darkens a few shades, chuckling and rubbing the back of his neck, "I ran into the doorframe trying to open the door for you."

Cas smiles warmly, ducking his head and smiling at the floor in a way that sends a rush of affection and adoration through Dean. "God, Dean, you're so goddamn cute!"

Dean gives a breathy laugh before scooping up the smaller man (Dean wants to believe that he wasn't as dangerously light as before) and tossing him on the bed, throwing himself down on top of him, his face inches from those beautiful blue eyes.

"I love you." Dean says seriously, kissing the tip of his boyfriend's nose, earning a shy smile from him.

"Are you sure?" Cas asks teasingly.

"Well, I'm 79% sure, but I could check," Dean breathes, cutting of Cas's reply with a light kiss, deepening the kiss after a few seconds.

Cas kisses back, desperation in his actions as he presses himself as close to Dean as humanly possible. Dean slips his hand hesitantly beneath the hem of his shirt, waiting for permission. Cas nods breathlessly, breaking the kiss for a moment but submerging himself in Dean's lips once more. Dean's hand runs up Cas's scarred stomach and chest, hungrily exploring the new terrain. Cas leans into the touch; for once he wasn't ashamed of his body.

Clothing is pulled off, one article at a time, the two savoring the taste of each other, neither in any rush to experience the other.

Dean breaks the kiss, panting slightly as he looks hard into Cas's eyes.

"Cas...are you sure?" He asks, concern in his eyes.

Cas nods vigorously, God did he want Dean. He was slightly nervous, sure, seeing as he hasn't ever been with anyone, but he wouldn't want anyone else to be his first.

"Yes. I'm sure. I love you, right?" Cas says breathlessly.

"Yeah, I know, but there's more to love than--well, never mind, you know already," Dean barely gets the phrase out before Cas meshes their mouths together again.

Sex is too crude a word to describe what happened next. Love was made; pure, wholesome love. Cas never knew how wonderful it was to fit so perfectly with someone, the warm feeling of belonging to something bigger than himself, the way he felt that night was better than any temporary high that the razor brought him, so much more satisfying and happy than losing anouther pound. He felt complete. Safe. Loved. And he wanted to feel that way forever and ever.

 

***

 

"You're so beautiful, Cas," Dean says, lazily tracing hearts on his boyrfriends scarred stomach.

Cas snorts, rolling his eyes, "Yeah, says the guy who's touching my scars."

He immediately regrets his words and Dean's hand draws back, the warmth from his hand suddenly gone.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean--" 

"It's fine Cas. I should have known it would bother you, sorry." Dean says quietly, moving his hand to safer territory.

"No!" Cas blurts, much louder than intended. "No, it doesn't bother me. I was just...I don't know. It's easier to be sarcastic and bitter than admitting that I'm not as awful as I think I am."

Dean nods, keeping his hand well away from any scarred surface, which makes Cas's heart ache. He grips Dean's hand tight, and puts it back on his chest, over his heart.

"Hey, Dean..." Cas begins, not sure how to phrase his next sentence. 

"Yeah, Cas?" Dean replies, moving onto his side and propping himself up with an elbow.

"I was thinking...I mean, I thought of what you were doing, the whole bucket list thing, and I kinda want to try it myself."

Dean's face freezes, and Cas is alarmed, unsure of what he did wrong.

"What?" Cas asks.

"Well, Cas, I mean...the bucket list was a list of things I want to do before I...die...I don't know how I feel about you having a bucket list like mine..." Dean says haltingly, his grip tightening reassuringly over Cas's.

Cas nods, suddenly realizing, "Oh crap, Dean, that's not how I meant it at all. I'm not making a bucket list because I'm going to die (well, anytime soon), I'm making it because, well....you know why."

Dean nods again, stroking Cas's hand with his thumb. Cas relishes the way his calloused fingertips scratch against his smooth skin, sending electricity up his spine.

"I really don't want you to go..." Cas whispers, his eyes shining with tears he vowed not to shed.

Dean moves his face closer to Cas's, and his breath tickles the other man's throat. "I don't want to go." His voice is rough and quiet, full of shame and wistfulness and utter sadness.

Cas turns around onto his side and pushes himself closer to Dean so that they're spooning.

Only then, when his face is hidden from Dean's, does he allow himself to cry.

 

 


	18. Dragon Sex

_Samuel_

 

Sam and Dean were both enjoying some quality brother time. Dean had bought his brother the game _Overwatch_ for his birthday and were playing it now, trash talking each other and gloating the whole time.

"Hey guys, I'm going to get some food, any requests?" Cas calls from the doorway, keys in hand.

"Chinese!"

"Pizza!" 

The two brothers shouted at once, and Cas shook his head. "Looks like we're having burgers again, folks."

Sam nods absently, more focused on the game.

"Dammit, Sam, why do you always main as Bastion? You get play of every goddamn game just for holding left trigger for 30 seconds." Dean grumbles.

Sam makes a slurping sound and lets out a satisfied "aahhh!"

"You hear that? That's the sound of me drinking your fucking _tears!"_  Sam shouts.

"Language, Sammy," Dean says sternly, his big brother mode switching on.

The two play for a while, and Sam can tell Dean has something on his mind, seeing as he was taken out by D. Va outside of her battle mech. 

"So, like, how the hell are you asexual?" He asks, not taking his eyes off the screen. "I mean, how do you _not_ feel sexual attraction? Isn't that the only thing 15-year-old boys feel?"

The corner of Sam's mouth twitches in annoyance; the only thing worse than that question was "so you're basically a plant, right?" He replies nonchalantly, "I don't know dude, I just don't. I'm just generally more excited about dragons," he joked.

Dean's head snaps around to face his little brother. "You want to have sex with a dragon?"

"Hey, don't knock it till you try it. Oh, BOOM, hell yes! It's high noon bitches!" Sam yells, taking advantage of Dean's momentary distraction to take out his brother's character with McCree's ultimate.

"Dude, what the fu--" Dean yells, throwing down his controller.

"Language, Dean." Sam chides, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

"You better wipe that smug-ass grin off your face before I--"

"Before you what, Dean?" Sam interrupts again. "Before you nail Cas on my side of the bed again? Becuase I'm actually genuinely scared about that."

Sam cackles as Dean's face turns red and he splutters in embarrassment.

"The walls are really thin, Dean, I hope you know that."

The front door latches, and Dean scrambles up to meet his boyfriend.

Sam chuckles to himself. It was fun seeing his bold, strong, manly brother crumble when Cas was brought up. He realized he was that way with Gabriel, which was kind of obnoxious since Gabe never took anything seriously and his joking, bantering façade never cracked. It was kind of exhausting, really. Sometimes he just wanted to be serious. He wanted to be able to talk to him about heavy stuff without getting frustrated at his boyfriend's inability to find his chill and just _listen._

He was _always_ joking and screwing around and being obtuse on purpose and it pissed him the hell off. Sometimes he'd just kiss Sam to get him to shut up when he brought something serious up, or just say "I love you" like it was nothing. He was on the verge of breaking up with him when his dachshund died and Gabe immediately made a "wiener" joke instead of helping him cope with the fact that his dog had just died.

The most infuriating part was that Sam _knew_ Gabe was capable of love and kindness and sensitivity. He saw it all the time with Castiel; the guy was so gentle and tender with his brother, why the hell can't he be that way with his goddamn _boyfriend??_

"Yo, Sam, dinner's ready." Dean interrupted his thoughts, sticking his head into his room. "Gabe's gonna swing by too, so you better go put on your makeup or something and look presentable."

Sam sighs. More and more, over the weeks, he found himself increasingly less happy at the prospect of seeing his boyfriend. He didn't want to, but he thinks maybe it's over for them. Maybe he'll find someone who loves him enough to listen to him.

"YOOOO, SAM MY DUDE, WHAT IS UUUPPPPPPPP?!?!?!!" Gabe swings into the room, yanking Sam into a standing position and looking up at him, gripping his forearms tightly.

"Actually, Gabe, I need to--"

Gabe cuts him off with a deep, almost violent kiss, then starts talking a mile a minute. "Oh man, you would not be-LIEVE the day I had, I gotta tell you all about it. First off, there was this dog on the street, okay? And then..."

Sam tunes his boyfriend out after a few sentences, something that he's been doing more often than not. He used to find Gabe's ramblings cute and quirky, but now they were starting to become irritating and just too much. 

Sam caught the word "sex" in Gabe's monologue, and started listening real good.

"...I mean, my last boyfriend, he was wild, but not like that! Speaking of which, Sammy, when are we gonna get down to business? I know you're 'asexual' or whatever, but come on! We've been dating almost a year, you still telling me you don't want this?" Gabe gestures to himself, raising an eyebrow.

Sam's heart sinks. For some reason, Gabe has never completely gotten the concept that Sam doesn't want sex. Ever. If he were straight, he'd do it for a girl so that they could have kids. But a guy? There's no reason that he can think of to stick one of his organs into the most disgusting body cavity in the human body.

Sam inhales, preparing to give Gabe the same explanation he gave him every single time.

"Gabe, no. I've told you over and over, I don't want to. I don't feel sexually attracted to you, I don't feel sexual attraction at all, and I don't want to have sex. Ever. With you or anyone else." 

Gabe squints at Sam in a way that makes him slightly uneasy.

"What, you're saying you don't love me?" 

Sam inhales sharply, already losing control of the situation.

"No, Gabe, I love you a lot. I love you more than anything. I just don't want to have sex with you. Or anyone. I can still love you with my heart, I don't need my dick's opinion on this one." Sam says softly.

Gabe nods, clearly not believing him. "Whatever Sam. I waited for you for a while, waiting for you to get over that, but I'm kind of tired of waiting. I've stayed loyal for almost a year, and let me just say jerking off isn't the same. There's something wrong with you, dude."

Sam's heart twists in his chest at the same time anger burns hot in his head. It hurt for him to hear people say that he was broken, that he had something wrong with him. Why was it so bad not to want sex? At the same time, he's angry now. Why the hell should he have to sacrifice something like this just to keep the relationship afloat?

"There's nothing wrong with me, Gabe," Sam says shakily, not fully believing himself.

"Then prove it. Have sex with me." Gabe says. It's not a request.

"I don't want to." Sam says quietly, stepping back slightly. Things were about to get real bad real soon.

"Prove that you love me, Sam." Gabe says again, slightly louder.

Sam begins to panic, but tries not to let it show. He always knew that there was a dark side broiling under Gabe's surface, but he's never seen it till now.

"No." Sam says, even more quietly. 

"Prove. It." Gabe growls, stepping closer and gripping his wrists. Sam was at least six inches taller than  him, but for some reason Gabe felt more powerful. 

"I don't have to prove it! I love you, goddamn!" Sam shouts, breaking free of his boyfriend's grip and glaring at him.

Gabriel steps back, scoffing as he looked Sam up and down. "Sure you do."

He turns to walk away, and Sam catches his sleeve, pleading with his eyes.

"No, Gabe, I'm sorry. I do love you. I swear on my life I do."

The shorter man gives Sam one last look before shaking him off and leaving the room.

Guilt floods Sam. He has to show Gabe he loves him. As much as the bastard annoyed him, he did love him. He loved him. He just needs to prove it.

 


	19. Reconcile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey there's some non con here in this chapter, nothing graphic but still potentially triggering. ill include a tldr in the chapter notes at the end :)

**NON CON STARTS HERE**

_Samuel_

Sam stands outside Gabriel's bedroom, his breathing shallow and his hands shaking slightly. He presses his hands together to still the vibrations, trying to bring his heart rate down to a normal bpm. Loud rock music plays from within the room.

He inhales once. Exhales. Inhales. Exhales. He's got this. He can do this. People did this all the time, right? He was no different. He could do it too.

He brings his hand to the doorknob, ignoring his trembling hand, and pushes the door open.

Gabe is lying on his bed, reading a book whose title Sam couldn't quite read. He doesn't look up. It had been three days since their confrontation in the dorm, and he hasn't answered any of Sam's frantic texts.

Sam doesn't say a word, instead he kneels on the bed, straddling his boyfriend's midsection and putting his hands on either side of Gabe, forcing him to look at him. A small smile plays on Gabe's face, as if he knew he'd won.

"Hey Sam. Finally changed your--" Sam cuts him off with a deep kiss. He wanted this. Right?

Gabe kisses him back, deeper and more violent than any kiss has a right to be. Sam pauses to shakily take off his shirt, revealing a boyish frame with little muscle. Gabe looks up at him, panting. Sam can feel something hard pressing into his leg, and he feels like he's going to vomit. He pushes it down. He has to show Gabe he loves him.

Gabe rips off his shirt and starts working on Sam's pants, undoing them and slipping his hand into his boxers, making Sam jerk back and whimper a bit.

"Come on, Sammy, you started this. Finish it." Gabe growls. Sam flinches at the nickname his brother gave him coming from his boyfriend's mouth like that.

Sam closes his eyes as Gabe pulls off Sam's boxers, not wanting to see the look of lust on his boyfriend's face.

"God, Sam, I knew you were beautiful, but not like this. Damn."

Sam keeps his eyes screwed shut as Gabe removes his clothes and flips Sam onto his stomach roughly.

It hurt.

Oh God did it hurt.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to block out the pain. Tears were streaming from Sam's eyes as he rocked with Gabe's thrusts. He hates himself for the physical reaction it causes, but he hopes it's enough to make Gabe sure that he loves him.

When he comes, it feels wonderful, but he was crying too hard to relish it.

Gabe crawls off him, flopping onto the bed, panting. Sam brings his knees up to his chest and lies in the fetal position for a while, tears streaming down his face. He felt so dirty, so used. His back was sticky and his groin muscles ached, and he felt on the verge of throwing up.

"That was great, Sammy." Gabe says, still breathing heavily. God, he wished he would stop calling him that!

Sam slowly sits up, his muscles aching and his head spinning. He puts his pants back on and slips his shirt over his head. He felt so vulnerable naked, it felt nice to be covered again.

"I'm going to take a shower." Sam says quietly, slowly standing up and walking out the door. Gabe didn't even notice.

 

**NON CON ENDS HERE**

 

***

_Dean_

 

_Day 253_

_Reconcile_

 

Dean looks at the new page in his journal. He knew the most obvious candidate for this was his dad, but he knew he could probably never fix things with John.

"Hey beautiful," Cas says, sticking his head into the room. "What are you doing?"

Dean sighs and looks at Cas. "Just this stupid journal thing. Today's entry is to reconcile, but that seems kind of impossible since the only one who I really need to reconcile with is Dad."

Cas nodded. They had gone ahead and written all the entries, all the way up to day 300, and the entries in Dean's journal were the same as Cas's journal. It was easier and less confusing that way.

"Yeah. I originally wanted to reconcile with Luci, since he's a huge problem, but after what he did...I don't really care if we're ever on good terms."

"You never did tell me what Luci did to estrange himself," Dean comments.

"Oh, Dean, it's just...bad stuff. I promised Gabe I wouldn't tell anyone who doesn't absolutely need to know." Cas says apologetically. "It's not really my story to tell."

Dean nods, "Yeah okay, that's fine, don't worry about it. We got quite a few stories like that in the Winchester family."

Cas reaches over and takes Dean's hand. "I think you should do it."

Dean blinks in surprise. "What? After what he said to you, what he said to me, you want me to make peace with that bastard?!"

Cas holds his hands up in surrender. "Take it easy, Dean. A lot worse has happened to me, and you as well. Besides, he was clearly intoxicated and probably didn't know what he was saying."

The taller man scoffed, "Cas, drunkenness is one of Dad's core personality traits. He's said horrible things, _done_ horrible things, drunk and sober."

"So?"

Cas surprises Dean again. He would have thought that being called a faggot and being threatened and beaten would weigh in on his decision a little more.

"What do you mean, 'so'?" 

Cas inhales, looking into Dean's eyes. "I mean, so what if he's a horrible person? So what if he was abusive and caustic your entire childhood? So what if he's Satan incarnated? That's not your problem. You don't have to live with that. He does. He has to live with the fact that he was a shitty person and drove away both of his sons, probably forever. You can't hold a grudge like this, Dean. I get it, he was an abusive son of a bitch and I don't want him anywhere near you. But as long as you hate him, he has control. He's always had control over you, but now he doesn't. So stop letting him control you. Tell him you're done seething about his jackassery. Tell him you're finally free."

Dean is quiet for a moment, digesting this idea. 

"I think that's  pretty solid logic." He says at last. "I'll go down there tomorrow—no, tonight! You're right, Cas, I don't want to be controlled another minute."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Cas asks softly.

Dean nods, "Yeah. If you want to forgive him too, for what he called you and how he...hit you. I know you're not really up for a heart to heart with Luci."

Cas snorts, "Yeah, I'm not sure if what he did was ever forgivable. I'll let God take that one."

 

***

 

_Ding-dong_

Dean presses the old and cracked doorbell to his house--no, John's house. He would never have to live here again. His hands twitch in anticipation; he had no idea what could happen now.

The door opens and John is in the doorway. To Dean's surprise, his eyes are alert and his face is clean shaven. He smells like men's deodorant and clean clothes. The clothes were clean, actually. Fresh white T-shirt and pajama pants, causal but appropriate for a Sunday morning.

"Dean? What are you doing here?" John asks, his voice clear and without a slur. He looks over Dean's shoulder at Cas, who waves awkwardly. A grimace passses over his face like a shadow, but it's gone soon after it appears.

Dean is too shocked by his dad's normal appearance to answer quickly. "I, um, Dad, uh..." he stammers.

"Come on, son, get it out." John says, annoyed.

"I just...I came to tell you someing." Dean says, finding his voice.

John leans against the doorframe, not inviting them in. "Alright. Shoot."

Dean had imagined a drunken mess coming to meet him, and his speech would probably make more sense in that context. Forgiving a deadbeat dad is easier when he looks the part.

He inhales, reciting what he had practiced in the car with Cas.

"Dad, I want you to know I forgive you." Dean says. John opens his mouth to reply, but Dean pushes on, willing his voice not to shake.

"I want you to know that even though you were abusive and demeaning and generally a shitty parent, I don't care anymore. I'm done holding that grudge,  won't let that, or you, control me anymore.

"I've found a life that I enjoy. I've found someone who I love and loves me in turn. I'm happy now, and I don't want to live the rest of my gorgeous life with you hanging over me like a shadow. I forgive you, and although I want nothing more to do with you, I want you to know my conscience is clear and I have no regrets"

John looks taken aback, and Dean's heart is calm. 

"I do too, Mr. Winchester." Cas pipes up. "I never had to live with you, and I'm glad about that, but I forgive you for hurting my boyfriend and insulting me." 

His dad glances at Cas, a muscle twitching in his cheek, but looks back at Dean.

"I...Dean.." John tries to get a sentence out.

"It's okay Dad," Dean says. "You don't have to do the same. I have to go home. Call me if you'd like, but only if you do it out of love. Not the fucked-up type of love you gave me and Sam by beating us. The kind of love you felt before Mom died."

Dean turns to leave, taking Cas by the hand and holding him tight. He had never met anyone whose grip felt so right in the world.

Halfway to the car, John shouts out,

"Dean!"

Dean looks over his shoulder, surprised.

"I want you to know...never mind. You already know."

Dean smiled back. His dad had never said he loved him and his brother, but this was the closest he's come to saying it.

Cas pulls Dean's arm, directing him back to the Impala. The two got in and drove home.

 

_Day 253_

_Reconcile_

 

Check. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TL;DR sam initiates sex with Gabe to "prove" he loves him, and it ended very badly


	20. Behind Closed Doors

_Samuel_

"Hello, Sam!" Gabe greets Sam as he walks into his room, pulling him closer and kissing him deeply. Sam pulls back slightly, but Gabe grabs his shirt collar and pulls him down and kisses him again, more authoritatively.

Sam had been going over to Gabe's house every day. He didn't always want to, seeing as almost every time he went over he was expected to let Gabriel fuck him. But if he didn't, Gabe would text him incessantly and one time he actually threatened him.

Sam sits down carefully next to Gabriel on the bed, about six inches away. Gabe pulls him closer and kisses him gently, frustrating Sam. Sometimes he was so gentle, so loving, that Sam wants to stay with him forever. He knew that his boyfriend was manipulating him, but it felt so damn good when he brushed his hair out of his face and kisses him softly on the forehead. He could almost forget how disgusting and used he felt after their...sessions...

Sam kisses back, softly, relishing the feel of those soft lips against his. Maybe it would be different today. Maybe they can just kiss and laugh and cuddle and watch rom-coms that his brother hates.

Then the kisses grow more passionate, Gabe shoving his tongue down Sam's throat. Sam pulls back involuntarily, but he is pulled closer as Gabe's tongue violates his mouth. Sam pulls back harder, unexpected anger flooding through him.

"Stop it! I fucking hate that. It doesn't feel good anymore!" Sam says angrily, clenching his fists by his side. Gabe looks startled at his outburst, but soon enough his face turns hard and dark, extinguishing the spark of defiance in Sam.

"You don't like that?" Gabe asks mockingly. "Fine. Leave. See if I care. Don't bother coming back, coward."

Sam's eyes well with tears, and he instantly begins apologizing desperately to Gabe, hating how broken his voice sounded as he groveled to his boyfriend.

"Shut up. Stop crying. Just get the fuck out and don't come back." Gabe says, his eyes as cold and hard as stone.

Sam tearfully gets up and staggers out of the room, slamming the door shut and almost falling down the stairs. He makes his way out the front door and dissolves into sobs on the front porch. Why was he like this? Why couldn't he enjoy sex and intimacy like everyone else? Why did he have to prove every single day that he loved his boyfriend? He doesn't know. All he knows is that he's a worthless, broken coward, just like Gabe said.

Sam picks himself up, wipes the tears and snot away with his sleeve, and calls Dean.

 

***

 

_Dean_

 

Castiel and Dean were enjoying a quiet dinner with themselves, and it felt nice to be the only ones in the dorm. It allowed a nice, romantic atmosphere with little to no room for tension. Dean wishes he could stay like this forever.

Dean's phone rings, cutting through the ambiance with some obscure 70's rock song. He groans, unwilling to be interrupted during dinner.

"Ugh, it's Sam. I have to take this." Dean says apologetically.

"It's fine, Dean," Cas says gently. "Take it, he's your brother. We can continue later."

Dean accepts the call, mouthing a silent _thank you_ to his boyfriend.

"Hey, Sammy. What's going on?" 

"Nothing."

Sam's voice is flat and emotionless, which sends red flags shooting up in Dean's head.

"Are you all right? Why did you call?" Dean asks, worry seeping through his words.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just want to be picked up now." The monotone is leaving his voice, but now he just sounds tired.

"Of course. Is something wrong? You've only been there for half an hour."

"Nothing's wrong. Gabe wasn't feeling well for a bit, and I left after he fell asleep watching a movie with me," Sam says, his words sounding a bit rehearsed. "I figured he must be feeling really bad to fall asleep to Star Wars, so I thought I should let him rest."

"Oh. Okay," Dean says, not entirely convinced. "Sounds good then. I'll be there in 20 minutes." He hits the "end call" button and turns to Cas. 

"Sorry, babe, I have to go get Sam." Dean says, more than a little disappointed at the prospect of leaving dinner with his boyfriend.

"It's alright. Don't worry about it. Is everything okay?" Cas asks, reading the worry lines in Dean's forehead.

"Yeah, I think so. Sam says Gabe isn't feeling well, so he wants to be picked up so he can rest."

"Oh. He didn't seem sick yesterday, but I hope he's okay." Cas muses.

"Yeah, me too." Dean says, putting on his coat and walking out the door. Something wasn't right, but he doesn't know what.

He guesses he'll find out soon enough.

 

***

 

_Samuel_

 

Sam sits on the curb next to the Novak's driveway, his head resting on his knees that were pulled up to his chest, eyes dull and staring into the distance. He felt so goddamn empty. Like every emotion had been wrung out of him like water out of cloth.

He loves Gabriel. But at the same time, he is terrified of him. Despite being almost a foot taller than him, he still feels threatened by him. This is his first ever relationship, and it seemed okay for there to be a 3 year age gap, didn't it? Gabriel always said he was so much more mature than most 16 year old boys out there, and that he was different and special, and that Gabe knew how to treat him right. Could he be wrong? If sex was so difficult for him, was he actually as mature and special as Gabe said he was? 

_Maybe we should break up._

The thought presents itself before Sam even registers thinking it. Despite Gabriel telling him not to come back, Sam knew they weren't really finished, but that didn't help ease the guilt and anxiety roiling within him. But what if he doesn't come back? What if he goes home with Dean, and never comes back?

The thought terrifies him.

Gabe told him that he was the only one who would ever love him, and Sam fears it may be true. After all, if he couldn't have sex, doesn't like tongue, and didn't want to be unclothed, who else in their right mind could love someone like that? He doesn't want to ruin the one chance he has, but there's something deep within him that wants to rebel, be free, albeit a little lonely.

But then he thinks about his brother and Castiel. They seemed so happy together. Even though Cas has depression, watching him and his brother together, you'd never know it. Is that what love is supposed to be like? Would he want sex if he had someone as wonderful as Castiel asked it from him?

Sam doesn't know. All he knows is that he's not happy and that he's broken. 

Dean's newly-restored Impala pulls up in the driveway, and Sam heaves his body, heavy with guilt, upwards to walk to his brother's car.

 

***

 

_Dean_

Worry.

That's all he could feel now. Worry, with maybe a touch of guilt. Something is happening with his little brother and he doesn't know what. What is he good for, if not protecting Sam? That's what he's been doing since day one, protecting and loving him. Growing up the way they did, Sam wouldn't have stood a chance without Dean. He took almost every beating for Sam, lied to get Sam out of trouble, covered for him every single time, and whenever Sam did get hurt, he was there to put him back together. 

Dean used to tell stories to Sam whenever things got rough. When his dad was passed out drunk on the couch, after Dean had picked himself up off the floor after being beaten, after Sam started to cry, he would sit his little brother down on the floor of their bedroom and make up something to make Sam smile. Stories of dragons, faeries, adventure, and magic. An ideal world full of possibilities that Dean knew Sam could never have living with their dad. Worlds full of safety and fun and love, where nothing bad could ever happen. The place where he so desperately wanted to run away to.

But they're older now. Fairytales and imagination don't exactly cut it anymore. Whatever is happening with Sam, it'll take more than a bedtime story to fix it.

Dean pulls up to the driveway, and his heart breaks when he sees his little brother looking so dejected and lost, crumpled up like a used tissue on the curb with his feet in the gutter. 

Sam's head rises at the sound of the Impala's engine, and his body follows as he walks heavily to the passenger side, opens the door, and slides in.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean says softly, giving him a quick once-over to make sure he wasn't physically hurt.

"Hi, Dean," Sam said flatly, staring at the dash.

The two ride in silence for a few minutes before Dean speaks up.

"Do you...do you want to talk about it?" he asks.

Sam lifts his head and gives a strained smile. "Talk about what?"

Dean grits his teeth, trying not to let the overwhelming concern and anxiety manifest in anger. "You know what. Whatever's been going on. What happened, Sam? Are you and Gabe okay?"

Sam flinches a little at the sound of his boyfriend's name, sending red flags flying in Dean's mind. 

"Yeah. Everything is good," he says, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. "He's just not feeling well."

Dean is silent. He's not used to this. They never kept secrets from each other growing up. It was them against the world and their dad, and secrets had no place in their relationship as brothers. It hurt, being excluded from something so important and real.

"Okay," Dean reluctantly caves. "But you can always talk to me, Sammy. No matter what. I mean it."

Sam nods, still staring into space. "I know. Thank you."

The rest of the drive was done in silence.

 

***

 

After the two got back to the dorm, Dean asked Cas to come talk outside with him.

"What is it, Dean? Is everything okay?" Cas asks worriedly.

"That's the thing," Dean says, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know. We never kept secrets from each other growing up, and now he won't say a damn word to me. What could be so bad that he couldn't talk to me about it?"

"A lot of things, to be honest," Cas replies, a faraway look on his face that tells Dean that his boyfriend has had his fair share of those.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Dean says reluctantly, looking at the ground as if it had the answers to his queries. "Do you think Gabe has anything to do with it?"

Cas looks up at Dean, his face strained. "I don't know. Maybe. Gabe had his fair share of issues, but he's grown out of most of them, I think. He's more stable now than he's ever been."

"So is Sam, actually," Dean says in agreement. "I wonder if they're going to break up."

Cas sighs. "Maybe. The age gap may make things difficult."

Dean sighs as well, dropping his hand from his neck and swinging his arms by his side. "I don't know. I just hope he knows he can talk to me if he needs to."

"Yeah, I think he does," Cas comments. "It's just a matter of when he's ready."

"You're probably right, as per frickin' usual," Dean says with a half smile playing on his lips.

Cas smiles, and it's like falling for the first time again. "What do you say to a movie? Just to take our minds off things and let Sam decompress."

Dean chuckles gratefully, glad to have a distraction. "I'm saying hell yes. Meet me out here in 5?"

"Will do."

Dean sticks his head into the dorm and shouts, "Sammy, we're going to a movie! You're in charge, dude!"

"Okay!" Sam's voice is heard from the back bedroom, sounding reasonably calm and normal, Dean hopes.

Dean meets Cas outside, and the two drive off.

 

 ***

 

_Samuel_

 

He hasn't felt like this in a long, long time.

So empty.

So devoid of emotion and feeling.

He doesn't have the energy to do whatever coping skills he's learned, and to be honest, he's missed this empty sadness. Nirvana has a song, Sam doesn't know which one, Dean was just listening to it the other day and he heard the lyrics, and one of the lines is "I miss the comfort in being sad". Sam can relate to that. When he's not sad, he doesn't quite know how to feel.

Granted, he had kicked his depression and self-destructive tendencies to the curb for the most part, but sometimes his happiness felt fake, his smiles forced. Like he was masquerading as happy, even though he wasn't quite sure how to actually feel happy. Gabe used to make him happy. Really, genuinely happy. Or at least happy enough to where he didn't think about being sad very much.

Sam knows, as his therapist told him, that he can't rely on other people to make him happy. But being with Gabe makes him happy. Or, it used to. 

Sam gets up, still so completely broken and numb, walks to the bathroom, shuts the door, and sits on the toilet lid, trying to talk himself out of what he was going to do next. No reasonable argument was made for either side, besides the deafening chorus of _because I want to._

So, for the first time, in a very long time, Sam takes a blade to his skin, and begins to cry.

 

 

 


	21. Honesty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay y'all, last full chapter I have written at the moment. I really like to shoot for a chapter a week, but I can't always promise that, especially since I'm leaving for college soon and things are about to get hectic. thanks for sticking this out with me, I love you all!!

_Sam_

 

_What have I done?_

Sam looks down at his bloodstained hands and flayed wrists and thighs. Red rivulets of blood wound their way down his forearms and legs, coagulating into thick strings hanging from his body, splatters of ruby on the floor, and Sam is horrified.

He was done. He was done with self-harming, with depression, with all of _this._ He was in recovery, he was clean, he wasn't supposed to be doing this anymore!! Why was he doing this?! Why wasn't he going to therapy and taking his meds and not hurting himself? It was over, goddammit! He was fixed, he was cured, he was _happy!_

Obviously not.

He had to do something. Tell someone. Fix this. Stop this.

But how? How can he explain this without exposing Gabe? He can't play it off like a surprise relapse, no one would buy that. People don't do things like this for no reason, do they? Even if the reason is a chemical imbalance, a bad day, there's always a reason. It's not even Gabe's fault, really. It was just Sam being stupid and immature and sensitive and asexual. If only he could carve his asexuality out of him like he did to his skin.

But he can't. So he stands up, washes off his cuts, bandage them, throws on a hoodie and sweatpants, and goes to bed. And if he never woke up? Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing.

 

***

 

_Gabriel_

 

What was wrong with that boy?

And what was wrong with him?

Gabriel sits on his bed, troubled, mindlessly spinning a fidget spinner between his thumb and middle finger.

He didn't like how he felt. All dark and perturbed and mean. He wasn't always like this, was he? That's all he's felt for so long, it's hard to believe he was once like Sam: young, naive, and untroubled. Well, maybe not entirely untroubled; Gabe had seen the scars on the young Winchester's body when they had sex. Never said anything about them, he just pretended they don't exist so that he doesn't have to deal with an emotional sob story that he doesn't have the energy or care to engage in. If Sam wanted to be stupid and weak and cut up his little arms for attention, that's his business.

Nothing's wrong with him, Gabe decided. It was all Sam's fault. "Asexual". Pathetic. He just didn't want to admit he was a virgin. He wasn't anymore, of course, but he still clung tight to that label as if it would save him from the real world, and the reality of it. Normal people have sex, "asexual" is just a fancy word for "prude".

 _He should be grateful,_ Gabe thought. He was showing him what it was like to be a real man, an adult. It's not his fault the kid couldn't take it without sniveling about it. It doesn't matter. Sam was too weak to leave him or tell anyone, so their arrangement can continue indefinitely. There's nothing anyone can do, and nothing that anyone will do. Gabe was in control, and Gabe will always be in control. Sam was just going to have to learn to live with that.

So why did he feel so wrong?

 

***

**~the next day~**

 

_Castiel_

 

Things were going well. 

Yes, he still had bad days, and recovery is a bitch, but for the first time in a long time, Cas thought he might just make it out okay. 

To be honest, a lot of it was for Dean. Yes, the 300 day mark was growing ever closer, and Cas would be lying if he said it didn't bother him to the point of breakdowns, but he has to hang on and stay strong for Dean in his final days. So no cutting, no purging, no anything until Dean was gone. After that? Cas doesn't know.

It was day 260, and the assignment was "be honest about something". Easy enough, right? He had grown to be strong enough to be vulnerable with Dean, and it was getting easier and easier not to lie when asked if he was okay, and amazingly, Cas had managed to come clean with Dean every time he felt the urge to hurt himself, and they worked through it. That had been unheard of several months ago.

So that's all he has to do. Be honest. Easy enough.

They had planned to meet in a quiet room in the campus library for this. It was the last month of school, and things have been pretty lax lately. Perfect time to reflect on the self and be honest.

They were due to meet after Dean's last class that ended at 2:45, and at 2:50 Cas was seated in the quiet room, waiting on Dean.

Anticipation and adrenaline flooded his senses. He was going to come clean about something, and he really, really hoped it wouldn't fuck things up. He originally wanted it to be something rather light that wouldn't plague Dean in his final days, but doing that would be an insult to the process and he'd rather not do that. No matter how hard it was, Dean deserves honesty and transparency. 

The door swings open, and Dean enters, sending Cas's heart rate and anxiety through the roof. He was literally shaking with nervous energy. Dean seemed to be slightly on edge, too.

"Hey, Cas," Dean says tightly. "It's nice to see your pretty face again." he tries to diffuse the tension with a wink.

Cas laughs softly, trying so hard to keep the waver from his voice. "I have to say the same for you." He clears his throat, forcing the lump there down with a hard swallow.

"Yeah..."

Dean takes a seat, and drums his fingers on the table anxiously. "So. Who starts?"

Cas clears his throat again, emotion already building in his chest. "You first. I need a minute."

Dean nods, "Yeah, of course, babe. I can go first." Cas smiles gratefully.

He inhales shakily, and begins to speak.

"First of all, Cas, I want you to know that I love you. Completely and wholly. Everything I have ever done since I first laid eyes on you has been done out of love for you. I need you to understand that, first and foremost. Okay?"

Cas nods, speaking through the shake in his voice. "Of course, Dean. I love you too. Irrevocably so."

Dean flashes a nervous smile. "Okay, good. So..."

"So...." Cas echoes, letting out a short, hard puff of air.

Dean takes a deep breath, and begins.

"I am so proud of you."

Cas is a little shocked at first, fully expecting Dean to talk about something negative. He overcomes it quickly and listens hard.

"I know I don't say it enough, I haven't said it at all recently, but I just want you to know that I am so goddamn proud of how far you've come. I don't see the emaciated, scared, cut up little boy that you were when we first met. I see a strong, healthy, absolutely breathtaking young man in front of me and I know it was hard, I know it's still hard at times, but I'm just so fucking _happy_ for you, Cas, it makes these past few weeks so worth it, babe. Seeing you push through has done wonders for me, and I want you to know that I see you, I see your progress and I see you healing, and that makes me the happiest man on the planet. I love you, so, so much."

Cas's eyes well with tears. Tears of joy, tears of thankfulness, and tears of absolute guilt and regret. How was he supposed to tell Dean that it was all a front?

"T-thank you, Dean," Cas manages to get out through a tight throat and a shaky voice.

Dean smiles tightly, fighting back tears of his own. Cas aches at the thought that in two months, he will never see that smile again.

Cas breathes deeply, and starts his own confession.

"Dean, I..." he falters, his throat threatening to close so tightly he couldn't speak. He steadies himself, and continues. 

"I love you. And I am so happy that you're proud of me, but Dean? I'm not okay." Cas says, his voice breaking on the last word. Tears spring to his eyes, but they do not fall.

"I'm so, so scared. I don't know what I'm going to do without you. I can't...I can't think about it or I'll break down. You're the one who pulled me out of this. You're the one that made me want to fix myself, to heal. And in two months, I won't have that anymore. And I don't know how I'm going to breathe without you, Dean."

Castiel begins to cry. Sobs rip their way out of his threat as he dissolves into tears and collapses in on himself, bawling into his hands, crying harder than he ever thought was possible.

Dean was out of his seat in a heartbeat, throwing himself onto his boyfriend and holding him so tightly, as if he would never let go. And Cas never wanted him to. 

Dean is crying too, Cas realizes, as he feels the dampness of tears on his neck, and feels the shaking of his shoulders and his body is wracked with searing emotional pain. The two sit and sob for a long, long time, and Cas feels his chest turn into a gaping black maw, consuming his heart and his soul and everything good in the world. Nothing can ever fix this. And it's all his fault.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry..." Cas manages to say between soul-shaking sobs. "I never should have done that, I was selfish, I was stupid, I was..." 

"What are you talking about, Castiel?" Dean says, pulling away and looking Cas straight in the eye. "How the hell was any of this your fault? I made the decision, it's on me. I was the selfish one."

Cas looks at Dean sorrowfully, not believing a word he says. "If I hadn't tried to kill myself none of this would have happened. If I wasn't so _weak_ and _broken_ and an _absolute fucking idiot,_ you wouldn't have done that. It's my fault." Cas lowers his head in shame, tears still falling freely from his eyes onto the floor.

Dean laughs weakly. "Cas, it wasn't your fault. You didn't know. You're going through hell, and it was selfish of me to take the deal. I said no at first, actually."

Cas looks up in surprise. He didn't know about that. "Really?"

"Yeah," Dean affirms. "I knew that's not what you would want me to do. You tried to kill yourself, and I could safely assume you didn't want to be alive. So I let it be your choice.

"But then..." Dean's voice shakes a bit. "Then Crowley snapped his fingers and you started to die. You coded, you were dying. And in that moment I agreed. In that moment of selfishness, I called him back and made the deal. It was my decision. I made it for myself, not for you. I couldn't handle the thought of losing you, so I essentially made the decision that you would have to lose me. And I am so, so sorry."

Cas is shocked. He couldn't believe he was hearing this. All of a sudden, he realizes there was nothing he could have done differently, save for not attempting suicide. That was a big thing he could have changed, but Dean was right: it was his decision, not Cas's. And now he has to forgive him.

Cas inhales shakily. "I don't want to forgive you. I want to be angry at you. But I can't. Not this close. I forgive you, Dean. And I'm sorry I put you in that situation. You didn't deserve to be forced into that position."

Dean smiles through his puffy, red eyes, and for some reason, his eyes are even more apple green and breathtaking than usual. Cas's heart aches at the thought of one day soon never being able to see them again. 

"Okay. I think that's enough honesty for today," Dean states with a breathy laugh. "Do you want to go home, or are you up to grabbing some food? I didn't eat lunch today, I was so nervous."

Cas realizes he's hungry too, all he had for breakfast was a granola bar, and no lunch. His stomach had been upset all day as well. 

"Yes, I'd like to get lunch. But can we stay here for a bit?" he asks. "I don't want to go out looking like I've been crying. I get really blotchy."

Dean smiles again understandingly. "Sure. We can stay here a bit. You look lovely all the time, sweetheart."

Cas grins despite himself, ever a fan of pet names. "Okay. Thank you"

"Of course."

They get up and find a corner of the room to share, and they snuggle as close to each other as they can, and sit in silence for the next half hour. Cas tries to relish every second and remember every detail. The warmth and solidness of Dean's body, his breathing and heartbeat, the smell of his aftershave and deodorant, every single freckle on his body, anything and everything about him. Cas didn't know if he'd find anyone that fit his body as perfectly as Dean's arms did. He leans his head back to rest on his boyfriend's shoulder, closes his eyes, and concentrates on never, ever forgetting this moment. 

Dean's hands brush through his hair, pressing a kiss to the side of his head, and Castiel lets himself melt into his touch. It wasn't long ago that the sensation of hands on his body made him want to puke, but Dean was, as always, the exception.

 

***

**~later that day~**

_Dean_

 

Across from him was the most beautiful man he's ever met.

He and Cas were at a local burger joint, enjoying a milkshake/French fry combo with each other. Dean was determined to make this seem like a normal date that normal couples do on normal days. He just wants as many of these candid moments as he can before he has to go.

Castiel is engrossed in his food, poking a French fry around in his milkshake distractedly. He's barely had any of it. 

"You alright?" Dean asks through a mouthful of French fries. _Of course he isn't alright, you idiot,_ Dean thought immediately.

Cas seems startled a bit, but meets Dean's eyes and chuckles nervously. "Oh, it's nothing. Just, uh...just the calories are probably, uh, a bit high..."

Dean nods, an unexpected pang of sadness and sorrow shooting through him. How is Cas ever going to survive without him? Not to be narcissistic, but Dean was fairly certain he was the thread Cas was hanging on by.

"Oh," he says. "I'm sorry, babe, I shouldn't have suggested fast food in the state you were in. We can go somewhere else," he offered.

Cas smiles self-consciously, blushing ever so slightly in embarrassment, "No, Dean, it's fine. I'll live."

Poor choice of words, Dean thinks, but he'll take it.

"I love you." Dean says, trying to give Cas a meaningful look.

"I love you too, Dean." Cas replies, giving Dean a look as well. "Forever and always."

Dean smiles, and tries to keep his heart from breaking.

 

 

_Day 260_

_Be honest._

 

Check.


	22. The Truth Comes to Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more non-con, if you made it this far you'll be fine
> 
> also, long-ass chapter. you're welcome. 
> 
> enjoy!

****_Dean_

Dean had been through a lot. He had almost died several times, his father abused him, his brother was almost homeless, but these just pale in comparison to what he walked into.

He had heard screams and moans in Gabe's bedroom, on his way to pick Sam up for a doctor's appointment, and the sound of a bed frame beating against the wall. Obviously, someone was having sex with another person.

But the screams were not of enjoyment, and he heard crying. Crying that sounded familiar.

Dean slowly walks into the bedroom, poking his head inside. He never wanted to see what he saw next.

Gabriel has Sam on his stomach on the bed, both completely naked, and was roughly shoving in and out of his brother, oblivious to his tears and pleas to stop. Sam has his eyes screwed shut, his hands gripping the bedsheets hard enough that it looked like it hurt, and tears were streaming down his face. 

Rage fills Dean, white hot and blinding. How dare that, that _monster_ , do that to his baby brother?! Dean crosses the room in two strides, yanking Gabriel by his hair off his Sammy and throwing him to the floor, while Sam sits ramrod straight, eyes wide with horror and gratitude.

 ** _"HOW DARE YOU DO THAT TO MY BROTHER!?"_** Dean roars at the top of his lungs, heat and anger bleeding through his pores as he yanks Gabe up to a standing position and fucking decks him as hard as he could, the smaller man's head snapping around almost 180° and his body collapsing and thudding to the floor, where he lay like a sack of disgusting, pedophilic, inhuman sack of potatoes.

Dean picks him up again, draws his fist back, ready to beat the living _shit_ out of him. Gabe's eyes are unfocused and bleary, a bruise blossoming next to a bloody nose.

"Dean!"

Dean hesitates, turning to see Cas in the doorway, his face horrified.

"What the hell are you _doing?!"_

Then Cas looks around the room. His boyfriend's naked little brother, crying quietly, hunched with his legs pressed to his chest, on a rumpled and unmade bed. His brother, naked as well, barely conscious. His boyfriend, rage filling his features, his eyes clouded over with deep fury.

"Gabriel..." Cas says, his face shocked and horrified, his hand covering his mouth when he put two and two together.  "Did you just...did you just _rape_  Sam?!"

"No, I wanted it!" Sam finally speaks up, his voice cracking, thouroghly unconvincing. 

Dean's head snaps around. "You wanted this? Are you fucking kidding me?! Look at you, you're crying, you're shaking, you are not okay. And I'm going to fucking _kill this son of a bitch!"_

Dean winds up to punch Gabe again, but is stopped by Castiel's shaking hand. Cas pushes Dean away, ignoring his boyfriend's protests, glaring at his brother with unbridled hatred.

"Gabriel....what the fuck have you done? WHY the fuck did you do this?! After what Luci did to you..?" Cas says, his features contorting with emotional agony.

"Castiel..." Gabe says warningly.

"Wait, what? What did Luci do?" Dean asks.

"Castiel!" Gabe shouts as Cas starts to speak.

"Lucious raped him. Over and over. He abused all of us, but Gabe got the worst. He would sexually harass him almost every night, and no one did anything about it until our parents caught him. That's why he's estranged. Because he's a filthy monster who dared violate his own brother." Cas spits, hatred filling his face.

"You weren't supposed to tell anyone!" Gabe shouts again, hands forming into fists at his side.

"And you weren't supposed to hurt him!" Cas screams back, his voice breaking. Dean had never heard Cas speak above a soft tone, and hearing the raw emotion and volume coming from his boyfriend was heart-wrenching. "You were supposed to keep him safe, to make sure no one gets hurt like you did! What he did was unforgivable. But you're just as bad as he is."

"You don't mean that," Gabe says, his voice shaking. 

"Yes, I do." Cas says, his voice deadly cold. "I want you out of this house and out of our lives. I'm telling our parents, and I don't think they'll disagree."

"You can't tell them, Castiel, you can't. I have nowhere to go, I can't leave." Gabe says, his eyes filling with tears. Dean feels intense disgust at this pathetic display of emotion.

"You should have thought of that before you did this." Cas says, still maintaining an unforgiving, cold tone. "You should have known, out of all people, how much this can destroy a person. I didn't see the warning signs. I knew Sam was young, but if I had known that this is what would have happened, I would never have supported it. Get the fuck out of our lives. I don't want to see you anywhere near Sam again. Get. Out. Now."

Gabriel is silent, speechless. Anger, hurt, betrayal, guilt, all flashing across his face as he roughly yanks his pants on and storms out of the house. A collective sigh is let out, as if his presence had been suffocating the whole room.

"I'm sorry."

A small, broken voice breaks the silence. Sam was still on the bed, the sheets and duvet pulled up to cover him. His face was red and splotchy from tears, and he was still shaking and crying silently.

"It was my fault. I'm sorry."

Dean crosses the room and catches his little brother in his arms, holding him as tightly as he could as tears slip their way out of his eyes. His chest felt like a great hole had opened up, swallowing his heart and his breath, so full of absolute sorrow and anguish for his Sammy.

"Stop it," Dean says, his voice breaking. "None of this was your fault. I should have been here for you, Sammy, I should have stopped this. I am so, so, sorry. I'm sorry. I love you, I'm sorry." Dean is crying now, still holding his brother like he would never let go.

The two sit in an embrace for the next few minutes. Guilt is crashing over Dean in waves, sorrow and anger and utter depression washes over him. He was supposed to keep Sammy safe. He rescued him from an abusive dad just to put him in an abusive relationship. The poor kid wasn't even legal yet, and he had to have his virginity and innocent stripped from him with knives. Dean is so overcome with sorrow that he doesn't know if he'll ever be happy again. And now he has to leave Sam alone.

Selfish.

Dean is a selfish man. Expecting the world to spin on after he goes as if he meant nothing to the people around him. All so he could save Cas from a fate he wanted to have.

Sam eventually pulls back from Dean, sniffling and wiping his eyes. 

"I got snot and tears on your jacket, I'm sorry," he mumbles.

Dean gives a half-hearted chuckle. "It's okay, Sammy, it's just a jacket. I care about you more."

Sam nods, his eyes and nose puffy and red. "I think I'd like to take a shower now."

Dean nods sympathetically. "Of course. We'll leave. Just...come find me when you're out. I don't think you should be alone right now."

Sam nods, still looking entirely miserable, the sheets still pulled up to his chin, shaking ever so slightly. "Okay. I will. It's going to be a long shower though. I'll be fine."

Dean smiles thinly. "Okay. We'll leave. We love you, okay."

"I love you too."

Castiel and Dean leave the room, leaving a disconsolate Sam in their wake.

 

***

 

_Samuel_

 

The water was hot, almost too hot, but Sam endured the pain. He would never be clean again. He could scrub his skin off and burn his flesh, but he will aways be dirty, unclean, used. The though sparks more tears, his tears mixing with the water and his sobs lost in the noise. He scrubs at his arms and legs with a loofah, pressing as hard as he can to strip the filth of Gabriel away, leaving his skin raw and tender.

He looks at the still-healing cuts on his forearms and thighs. Gabriel saw them, but said nothing about him. He probably doesn't even care, just as long as he was able to be fucked. He was grateful that Dean and Cas didn't see, he managed to cover himself while the two were preoccupied with Gabe.

How many secrets does he have? How much dirt is ground into his skin? How many scars does he keep hidden? He doesn't know, and he doesn't think he'll ever know.

He wants to cut, but just the thought of the effort it would require makes him tired. All he wants is to be clean. But no matter what he does, Gabriel's atrocities will always be a part of him.

Sam turns off the water, dries himself off, and goes to find Dean. 

 

***

 

_Castiel_

 

He was so, so stupid. 

The warning signs were there. Dating someone younger than him, his recurring interests in younger boys, the weirdass incest porn he found on his laptop, the fact that he was raped himself as a child. Everything. It all pointed toward's Sam's sexual abuse. If Castiel had just opened his fucking eyes, he would have seen it, he would have stopped it.

And now? Now Sam was truly, utterly broken.

Cas knows the feeling of being broken. He knows the feeling of being sexually harassed. He knows how it feels to be ashamed that he didn't do something, say something, anything. And he would never wish it on anyone else. 

He wants to talk it out with Sam. Comfort him, tell him he's not alone, that what Gabriel did doesn't make him worth any less, and that his disgusting actions do not define Sam. He feels a desperate urge to relate, to help him through it. But doing that is so hard. Cas had pretty successfully trauma blocked most of the events involving his brother Luci, and although he would be lying if he said the abuse didn't fuel his depression and eating disorder, he feels as though he has left it in the past. Besides occasional nightmares about unrelated events (which is a symptom of trauma), he didn't think about it much. He didn't want to think about it much.

Is that what Sam needs, though? Does he need to talk it out and bare his flayed skin to him and purge his system of the trauma? Or does he, like Cas, want to bury it deep within him and never look back?

Castiel doesn't know. And he is getting really fucking tired of not knowing things.

 

***

 

_Dean_

 

Dean sits on the bed in his dorm room, listening to the water running in the adjacent bathroom. He was sick with worry. What if this caused a relapse? What if he was cutting, bleeding, dying in the shower, 20 feet away from Dean, and he could stop it now? What if he could stop it like he couldn't stop Cas?

He gets up and paces, back and forth a bit, then stands outside the bathroom door, listening hard. He heard sobs, quiet and muffled by the water, but still audible nonetheless. While it broke Dean's heart to hear his brother cry, at least the tears mean he's breathing. And he wasn't crying the last time he tried to kill himself.

God, that was a horrific day. It was the worst day of Dean's life, even including the day Cas almost died. There's something about walking into the bathroom and seeing your little brother, naked, pale as the bathroom tile, and floating in a bathtub full of red water. He doesn't ever want to remember that again, but the image of his Sammy in that bathtub will haunt him for the rest of his life.

It had been a normal day. He was 16, and had recently obtained his license, and had inherited his father's Impala. He had been surprised when his father had handed him the keys on his birthday; for most of the day he had assumed John had forgotten. That was one of the last kind things Dean had received from his dad, but that's another story. 

He had taken all his friends on a joy ride, and had originally invited Sam, but his brother was having one of his worryingly frequent depressive episodes, and had asked not to be bothered. So Dean, thinking nothing of  it, had left him behind. He got into the Impala with his friends, and they sped off, not looking back once.

Dean had gotten a text. A simple one, but it chills him to his core to think about it now.

_Had a great time with you. See you later :)_

Dean didn't quite know what he meant, but he didn't bother to respond. If only he had thought about it some more. If only he paid attention to the signs. But he didn't. He ignored the text, silenced his phone, and kept driving.

When he got home a few hours later, his dad was passed out on the couch, drunk. Shocker. He had called for Sam, slightly concerned for his safety; John did get a little rough after a few too many. No answer. Dean was getting increasingly worried, and as his feet pounded up the stairs, he felt more dread with each footstep. No Sammy in his room. The bathroom door was open, though, and he could hear water sloshing softly, as the light spilled into his bedroom.

He saw Sammy then, and immediately pulled him out, screaming in terror, and dialed 911.

An ambulance ride, 2 days in ICU, and a mandatory 1 week psych hospital stay later, Dean was a completely changed man. Almost losing a brother does that to a person. He didn't know what to do with himself. His father was of no use, it was a miracle that he agreed to pay the hospital bill, and with a little legal pressure, Sam's therapy too. Dean would visit every day, his heart tearing to pieces every time he saw his dead-eyed little brother with stained gauze peeking from his long sleeves. The scariest part is that it wasn't the meds making him look dead inside and utterly broken, it was just his depression sucking the life out of him.

After he was discharged, they never spoke of it again. Not until he met Cas.

Dean hears the shower turn off, and he quickly leaves his spot outside the door and walks into the kitchen, where Cas is pacing the floor, running his hands through his already mussed dark hair. He lifts his head to see Dean, and immediately throws himself onto his boyfriend, hugging him so tightly that Dean was short of breath.

"I'm so sorry, Dean, I never should have allowed Gabriel to date Sam, I _knew_ it was wrong, I _knew_ it wasn't as innocent as it appeared, I should have fucking done something, said something--"

Dean pushes Cas slightly back, making eye contact with the blue-eyed man. His glasses magnified his tear-soaked eyes, and Dean feels his heart breaking.

"Its not your fault," Dean says softly yet firmly. "It's no one's fault but Gabe's. You couldn't have known. You were just trying to make them both happy. But you made the right call back there. He should never be able to touch anyone again. He deserves the same fate as Luci, in my opinion."

"And," Dean adds, "we've been forced to acknowledge that Hell exists. Maybe it's a consolation to know that eventually, both your brothers will pay for what they did."

Cas sniffles a bit, a pained look in his eyes. "But that's the thing, Dean. I still love them. They're my brothers. I'm beyond angry at them, and I never want to see their faces again, but I can't help that I don't want them to burn like you will. Nobody deserves that."

"I get that," Dean says, not fully agreeing with his boyfriend's statement, but still wanting to comfort him. "But that's not our decision to make, I guess. You're right to disown them. But I'm not sure you can influence what happens next."

Castiel nods, wiping his eyes on the frayed sleeve of his trench coat. It was May, in Kansas, but he still insisted on covering his arms with that battered trench coat. It made Dean's chest ache, but there was nothing he could do about it besides check for cuts and offer love. One day, he hoped, he would be able to show his arms and not be ashamed of what he went through.

They both hear footprints down the hall, and Sam enters the kitchen wearing some of Castiel's old clothes that had been left at Gabe's house. The sleeves and cuffs of the sweatpants are almost comically too short, but no one was in a laughing mood at that moment. Sam kept his arms crossed and pressed tightly to his stomach, looking anywhere but at Cas and his brother.

Dean was at a loss for words. What the hell does someone say in this situation? What was the proper course of action? Dean was only 20, majoring in automotive repair, how was he supposed to fix this?

Sam breaks the silence, darting glances at his brother, never long enough for Dean to get a read from his eyes. "Can we go home now?" His voice is so small, so broken, exactly the way it was the first time Dean saw him conscious after his suicide attempt.

"Of course, Sam." Dean says softly. "Do you want to go get your clothes?"

Sam shook his head, his body tensing up with a repressed sob. "No. They're ruined. Gabe ca...never mind. I don't want them."

Dean carefully throws his arm around his Sammy's shoulder and walks him out, wanting so fucking badly to never let go of him again. To never let him get hurt again.

The three, a somber trio, walked outside, got in the Impala, and drove home. Each person had the same question in mind: _What do we do now?_

 


	23. Family

_Castiel_

 

Deep breaths.

Calm his heartbeat.

This was for the best.

This is what needs to happen.

Castiel was hovering on the porch outside his childhood home, trying to keep cool. He had called his parents and told them something had happened with Gabe, and that they needed to talk about it ASAP. No, Gabe would not be present. 

The courage to unlock the door and step inside seemed out of his reach, but he took a final deep breath, and pushed the door open.

His mother was hovering in the hallway joining the foyer from the living room, a concerned look in her eyes, wringing her hands anxiously. Saying the word "Gabe" and "trouble" in the same sentence was bound to cause a reaction. Ever since the truth about what Luci did to him, to all of them, Gabe's name has been underlined in red fo potential issues. They knew how fucked up the sexual abuse made him. But they never talked about it. Gabe would get angry and closed off when anyone mentioned it, and the topic would be dropped abruptly. Anna, Raphael, Castiel, and Michael never spoke of it either. Yes, it probably would have helped, but it was such a deep, personal attack that made it impossible to approach objectively. Therapy was difficult; the Novaks weren't exactly rolling in it, and the whole family, 7 total, needed it. Cas's pit stops in emergency rooms and hospitals took a big chunk out of their finances, and since the other siblings were quiet about it, things were left as is. Cas felt huge guilt over it. He was almost directly responsible for his siblings not getting help, and he couldn't bear it. He had to hope they weren't resentful, but nobody ever fucking talks about their feelings in that house, so he might never know.

"Castiel," his mother greeted him, smiling thinly. "It's good to see you again. I--"

Before she could get out another word, Castiel ran down the hallway and threw himself onto his mother, hugging her as tightly as he could. She returned the hug with just as much strength, and Castiel had to resist the urge to start crying right there.

"Oh, Castiel," his mother whispered, her voice breaking ever so slightly. "Tell me what's wrong."

Castiel pulls back, looking his mother in her tear-filled eyes, unable to speak. How could he ever say those words again? He hasn't said the word "rape" since he saw Gabe doing it to Sam, and the last time before that was 4 years ago when he finally broke down and confessed to, not just the abuse, but to  _everything_ : the cutting, the depression, the suicidal thoughts, his eating disorder, every secret he had rolling from his mouth after his mother asked him if Gabe had been raping him too. That was a very, very dark night for the Novak family.

His mother led him down the hallway and took a seat next to his father, and Castiel sat down across from him on the loveseat facing the couch his parents were perched on. The anxiety and tension in the air was suffocating, and Castiel can't help but remember how he was sat on this same loveseat when he told them about all his inner demons. He feels a strong urge to shut down emotionally like he usually does when faced with a difficult situation, but he's determined to stay present for this. He owes Sam at least his emotions.

He takes a breath, and tries to formulate a way to explain this nicely, but the moment he figures out he can't, the words fly straight out of his mouth:

"Gabriel raped Sam."

Silence. He watched his parents' faces go from confused, to shocked, to horrified, to angry, to tears in the span of 5 seconds, and Castiel feels his own eyes well with tears. He screws his eyes shut and tries not to succumb to the cries wanting to rip their way out of his throat.

His dad swallows, blinks, and clears his throat. "How do you know?" he asks. "Did you...see it? Do you know for sure?"

Castiel wants to be annoyed by his father's hesitance to believe this, but having two of your own flesh and blood commit such horrendous acts cannot be dealt with easily. Of course he didn't want to believe it. Who would want to?

Castiel nods, swallowing through the lump in his throat. "Yes. Everything. Dean saw it first and started beating the shit out of him, and then I walked in and I saw...oh God, I saw everything." His voice cracks on the last word, and the utter sorrow and despair that settles over him is almost too much.

His mother is crying silently now, her hands clasped firmly together, whispering, "Not again, not again, please not again...." almost compulsively under her breath.

His father's face takes on a hard look, and Castiel fails to see what emotions lurk under the stone mask he's created. He glances at his wife, for a brief moment allowing sadness through his eyes. He then turns to Castiel, and nods tightly.

"Thank you for telling us, Castiel. We will....we'll deal with it from here." he says, his voice just barely keeping an even tone.

Castiel wants so badly to talk this out with them, but he knows they need some alone time to process this, and as much as he'd like to be, sometimes some decisions didn't include him. He smiles thinly, and gets up to leave. His mother and father both stand to hug him, holding him as if it were the last time. Castiel hugs back, and the two stay like that for awhile. Then, Castiel disengages, and leaves the house.

Dean is waiting in the Impala outside. Cas climbs in, and they both sit silently for a bit. Cas's emotions have left him, he can't handle feeling anything more today. His dead eyes stare at a spot on the dash, and Dean wordlessly takes his hand and squeezes it reassuringly. Cas's fingers twitch in response, but stay limp for the most part.

The two drive back to the dorm in silence, and Cas wishes ever so desperately to feel happy again.

 

***

 

_Samuel_

 

Sam looks at the contacts page on his phone, staring at the number listed under "Gabe <3".

He could call him. Text him. Tell him he's sorry for what happened. That they could get back together, and no one would know. 

Sam's stomach is twisted in knots, and he hates himself for still loving Gabriel. No matter how horrible he felt about being...hurt...(he still can't say that word), he still loved Gabe with all his being, and he doesn't know why. Maybe it's because he was still in love with how things used to be. Tender kisses, fingers carding through his hair, whispered "I love you"s when things were rough, everything that was beautiful about them he still missed. If it wasn't for his goddamn inability to feel sexual attraction, maybe it would have stayed that way. If he wasn't so stupid and broken things would have ended better.

Somehow, he's not mad at Dean for forcing them apart. He feels like he should be, considering how he effectively put everything to an end, but he's more overcome with gratitude that Dean stopped that situation. That he rescued him from Gabe. As much as Sam loves him, he never wanted to be a part of that. 

All the thoughts and emotions swirling in his head made him stomach hurt more, and he feels the itch to cut again. The urge was coming more frequently and intensely now, and it was getting harder and harder to resist the temptation. All the muddled anger and depression in his heart could so easily be released with a few strokes of the blade. But his desperate need to _never_ go back to how things were in middle school has been prevailing so far. 

Sam turned his phone off suddenly and threw it onto the bed as if it were on fire. Even though he loves Gabe, he needs to face the reality that he wasn't good for him, and didn't have his best interests in mind. He gets up and starts to pace, trying to burn off some of that nervous energy and avoid hurting himself. He needs to cut, burn, scratch, something to make this go away, but he knows that if he gives in, it will only get easier to cave to the urge from there.

The door to the dorm creaks open, and Sam jumps in surprise, as if caught in the act of thinking about the crime.

A very tired-looking Castiel and a concerned Dean enter the room, and his brother greets him with a weak smile. Cas stumbles off to his bedroom, and the heavy squeak of a mattress is heard as he flops onto his bed. Dean casts a worried glance in his direction, but directs his attention back to Sam.

"How did it go?" Sam asks quietly. Stupid question.

Dean tries to laugh it off, but fails. "You know just about as much as I do. He wasn't in there for long, but he didn't say anything at all on the drive home. I think he's shutting down a bit, he hasn't even focused his eyes once on anything."

Sam nods sympathetically. Sometimes, when he was in his depressive episodes, he would do an emotional shutdown until he could find a way to cope. Usually a self-destructive way of coping, but coping nonetheless.

Dean takes a few heavy steps toward Sam, and settles onto the bed he was standing next to, staring blankly at the wall. Sam could tell a lot of things were on his mind, and he wishes he knew how to help. Dean had always watched out for him when they were growing up, but one of his greatest regrets is not being able to help Dean the way he helped him. Maybe it was just the little brother dynamic, but he genuinely wants to do everything in his power to make Dean's life a little less tragic.

To be honest, Dean's life wasn't that bad after he moved out, but after he started dating Cas, everything went to shit. He had only seen Dean as distraught as he was when Cas tried to kill himself, when Sam had tried to do the same thing. Somewhere, on some deep level, Sam resented Cas for putting Dean through this all over again. He had just been able to catch his breath from Sam's depression when Cas slammed into him with his own. But Sam knows he can't blame Cas any more than he could blame himself. Sometimes, shit happens, and it's nobody's fault. 

"I'm sorry this happened to you, Sammy," Dean says quietly, breaking his empty stare to look into Sam's hazel eyes. "You didn't deserve it, and it's not your fault."

Sam nods, unable to feel any emotion on the subject at the moment. He still feels like it is his fault, even though it doesn't make sense logically. He doesn't say anything, but he takes a seat next to his brother and lays his head on his shoulder. The two sit like that for awhile, just breathing. Sam feels incredibly empty, and he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to patch up the hole Gabe smashed into his chest. 

Sam feels Dean's head shift to look at Sam, and he instinctively rolls his forearms down to touch his thighs, afraid of his still-healing cuts being brought to his brother's attention. The cutting was a one-off, and Sam doesn't want to burden Dean with this when he's already had the shit beaten out of him emotionally.

Dean reaches his hand towards Sam's arms, and Sam's chest fills with anxiety, but he doesn't move a muscle. Instead of turning his arms over and pushing his sleeve up, Dean just takes his hand and squeezes it. Guilty relief floods the boy as he squeezes back.

"How about you and I go get dinner by ourselves?" Dean suggests, his voice still barely above a whisper. "Cas will be fine, he just needs to sleep it off. I haven't spent as much time with you as a should, so I think a trip to Burger King is warranted."

Sam smiles, and feels a slight flicker of happiness in his heart. "That sounds good."

"Alright," Dean says, and gets up off the bed, pulling Sam with him. The two get into the Impala, and drive off. 

 

***

 

_Dean_

 

He cursed himself for the millionth time for being so selfish. So wrapped up in his own petty pain that he would choose to leave everyone behind just to save someone who didn't want to be saved.

It's not like Dean regrets saving Cas; of course he doesn't. He just regrets how he went about it. Having to trade a life for a life is never fair, and it wasn't his call to make.

So now, he has less than a month to fix everything. To help Sam heal, to keep Cas afloat, to make things right with himself. All because he couldn't let go of someone who didn't want to be here.

His grip on the steering wheel is too tight, his knuckles white and clenched in emotional agony. He hasn't even told Sam about where he's headed. The poor kid didn't know that in 28 days, he would lose his big brother forever. Where was he going to go? The kid was 16, his dad was an unfit parent, foster care was horrendous, and on top of that, he now has to deal with the trauma of being a rape victim. Maybe he could make arrangements with the Novaks to see if they could shelter him until he's 18, but he didn't want to burden them like that at a time like this. Everything was so fucked up, and it was all Dean's fault.

"Are you okay, Dean?" Sammy asks in a small voice, bringing Dean out of his inner turmoil.

Dean swallows and clears his throat. "Yeah. I'm good, Sammy. Just worried about you."

Sam says nothing. Dean can feel the intense sadness and guilt radiating off his little brother, and he feels an ache so intense that he feels he may collapse under it. He would do anything, anything at all, if it meant he could take Sam's pain away. But he can't. All he's going to do is add to it. Some brother he was.

"Do you...do you want to talk about it?" Dean asks hoarsely. He's not sure he can handle that conversation, but he feels he owes at least that to Sam. 

Sam shakes his head vehemently. "I don't think I can. Not for a long, long time. But...but when I can, I'll...I'll tell you. You'll be the first to know."

Dean can feel his heart breaking. Guilt, shame, sorrow, agony, washing over him in tidal waves, dragging him into the riptide of his emotions. He'll never get to hear it. He won't be able to be there when Sammy does want to talk to it. He can't even offer him his fucking presence. How the hell is the boy supposed to cope when he's gone?

Dean blinks through the tears, and swallows past the lump in his throat. "O...okay. I'll be here. When you need me." God, he was lying through his teeth to his own brother. He can't believe it's come to this.

"Thank you," Sam says, almost in a whisper.

The rest of the drive is in silence, Dean berating himself in his head the entire time. He should have realized he wasn't paying the final price. Everyone else is. He wasn't being a hero. He wasn't even being brave. Selfish cowardice was all it was.

As they pull up to the Burger King, Dean forces himself to sweep his feelings under a rug for the time being. This was for Sammy, not him. 

The door to the restaurant swings open, and Dean embraces the cool air within the building. Summer was brutal this year, and the heat made him even more exhausted than he usually is. He's noticed he's been succumbing to fatigue lately, and he can't help but wonder if it's because he's dying. Either that, or the constant stress he was under. Either way, the past few weeks have been tiring, and as his final due date edges closer, he's finding it harder and harder to be happy. He wonders if this is how Cas feels all the time. The thought brings him sadness, and, yet again, guilt.

"What would you like, Sammy?" Dean asks, trying again to stop thinking about such things. 

"Um...I think just a milkshake and fries," he says, chewing on his bottom lip. Dean notices his lips are raw and chapped from nervous chewing. His heart aches when he thinks of how much he was suffering, and how he didn't have the slightest clue.

"Sure thing. A bacon cheeseburger with fries, and a milkshake and fries for him," Dean says to the cashier. He was feeling nauseated at the moment, but he hasn't had anything real to eat that day, and hasn't had a bacon cheeseburger in way too long. 

The two sit across from each other in a booth. It was rather quiet, the lunch rush was over but the dinner rush hadn't begun yet. Dean wanted desperately to talk with Sam, to use his last remaining days to help his brother, to be what he needed him to be before he's gone. But he knows it's not that easy. He knows that Sam may never heal from this. He knows that anything he does right now is never going to be enough. He curses himself for not being enough. For never talking to him about things that matter. He manages to talk to Cas about serious stuff all the time, but he never managed to connect with his brother that way. Dean isn't sure if that was his decision or Sam's, but the fact remains that Dean wasn't there for Sam when he needed him. Sure, he protected him from their father over the years, but he never _talked_ to him, y'know? Everything is moving too fast and Dean can't cope.

"You okay, Dean?" Sam asks in a low voice. Somehow Sam had managed to get their food and start eating without the older Winchester noticing. God, he was spacey as fuck today.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay, Sammy. Just thinking." Dean replies, clearing his throat.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Yes. He did. But he couldn't. Not now. He doesn't know when; everything was happening at once and he doesn't know if he will ever find a good time to tell his brother that he wouldn't be here by the end of the month.

"It's not about me right now. I should have been here for you. I should have always been here for you. Even now, I feel like shit because I'm all wrapped up in my head when I need to be here for you. I'm doing my best, Sammy, but I don't know if that's enough."

Sam nods, focused on the fry he had been swirling in his milkshake for the past minute. "I understand that. I just hope you know it's not selfish to have your own problems. I don't expect you to drop everything just because of me."

Except it was selfish. Not necessarily having his own problems, but dealing with them by serving an ultimatum that would condemn himself and everyone around him. 

"Yeah, I know," Dean says, trying to keep his voice even. "I just...I still wish I could do more."

Sam is quiet for a moment. 

"This is enough," he says quietly. "Spending time with me, letting me know you care...that's enough. _You're_ enough."

Dean is overcome with such love and adoration for his brother. Sam is a much better person than Dean ever was, and ever could be. "Thank you, Sammy. That means a lot to me."

Sam smiles thinly, and continues nursing his milkshake. Dean picks up his burger and takes a bite before it starts to get cold. The two sit in silence and eat, and Dean tries desperately to think of something light, something trivial to say to bring things to a lighter subject.

"So, how's school going, Sam?" he asks lamely.

"Pretty good," he replies through a mouthful of fries. Dean had been commuting Sam to and from the bus stop every morning and evening, trying to give the kid a sense of normalcy in their fucked up situation. "I'm just glad the year's almost over, y'know? It's...it's been rough, and I just need a few months to decompress."

Dean nods. "Yeah, I feel that. I could do with a few months just to chill as well." He could do with a few months, period, but he doesn't say as much.

The Winchester brothers keep up idle talk for the next hour or so, and continue to linger for a bit after they finish eating. Dean had forgotten how much he enjoyed his time with his brother. He had been so wrapped up with Cas and his own life that he never took the time to hang out with Sam. The kid was funny, smart, and kind, and Dean felt like he could learn a lot from him. 

It's dark outside by now, and Sam has school tomorrow, so they pick up and drive back to the dorm. Cas is still asleep, judging by the snores coming from the bedroom, and all Dean wants to do is join him and sleep for a century. Sam disappears to the bathroom to brush his teeth, and Dean, heavy with fatigue, strips down to his boxers and socks and collapses into the bed next to Cas. The smaller man stirs briefly, and unconsciously snuggles closer to Dean. He falls asleep quickly, and for once, everything was quiet.

 


	24. Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Just letting y'all know, this is the last chapter I'll be able to put out for a bit, I'm moving across the country for college and I don't know how long I'll be offline. Enjoy this chapter, I'll be back when I'm settled! Thank you for staying with me this long!
> 
> -Hannah

_Dean_

 

It's 2:13am, and Dean is staring at the wall, thinking of the many wrongs he needs to right. Keeping the secret of his quickly-approaching death from Sammy, not being proactive in making sure Gabriel gets what he deserves, allowing himself to overlook how much his death sentence was affecting Cas, so many things he had to fix in 21 days. Three weeks. That's all he had left before nothing mattered anymore.

He had been, putting it lightly, a bit of a wreck. Constant worrying, an ever-present fit of nausea in his stomach, almost no sleep, and worst of all, the sinking, spiraling feeling of not being enough.

"What's the matter, Dean?" Cas's voice is heard over his shoulder, and soon he finds a pair of arms encircling his waist and a head being laid on his shoulder as Cas spoons him. He sighs,  irritated at himself for waking his boyfriend.

"It's nothing, Cas," he says. "Go back to sleep, babe."

"Don't lie to me, Winchester," his boyfriend's voice is a low rumble in his ear. "What's going on?"

Dean inhales shakily, glad that he's facing away from Castiel. He doesn't want the man to see the pained look he's sure he's carrying on his face. "Just...thinking. About how I'm going to be gone, and how there's so much left that I have to do. What am I supposed to do about Sammy? With me gone, he legally belongs to my dad. How can I put him back in that environment? How can I throw him back into that hell? I'm so fucking selfish. I'm going to die in three weeks and everything is falling apart and it's because of me."

Cas is quiet for a minute, and Dean briefly wonders if he fell back asleep.

"I don't know what I can say that can make you feel better," he says after a moment, his voice slow and even. "but I want you to know that I love you, and I love Sam, and I'll try and pick up the pieces after you're gone. I...I don't know if I'll be able to pick myself up, but I promise you, I'll put my own feelings aside to make sure Sam is safe. Do you have other family? Bobby, maybe?"

"Yeah, Bobby might work. Sam's always been his favorite, I'm sure he'll love to take him. It's just the legal issue. If our dad fights for him, I don't know if he'll win. Last time I saw him he looked like a real person, I don't know if he's sobered up for good, but if he pulls that act with a judge then he might end up getting Sam. I don't know. I just don't want Sam back in that house."

Dean feels Cas nod against his shoulder, and a kiss is pressed to his temple. Dean melts into the  touch, savoring every last sensation he can. He wants to be able to live in this moment forever, the feeling of love blooming in his chest and the feeling of safety he feels his boyfriend's arms.

"I just want to stay like this forever. Is that too much to ask?" the Winchester says, tipping his head back closer to Cas and closes his eyes. The warmth of the bed, the pressure of Cas holding him, the smell of Cas enveloping him, the darkness of the room, everything was exactly how it should be. His approaching expiration date made him appreciate these little things so much more--he never knew how wonderful sleeping with someone could be until it was going to be taken from him.

"Me too," Cas replies, burrowing his head into Dean's shoulder. "Try to get some sleep, sweetheart. I'll stay awake until you fall asleep. Close your eyes, try to relax."

Dean obliges, ready to surrender himself to the quiet bliss of sleeping.

As he slips into a steady unconsciousness, he can't help but feel like this will never be enough.

 

***

 

He has to tell Sam. He can't wait any longer. It's not fair to the kid, three weeks is barely enough time to come to terms with it as is. Getting him to believe the situation would be difficult; Sam was always the realist between the two of them. So should he lie? Come up with some phantom illness that would claim him in exactly 21 days? Maybe he could bypass hurting his brother if he told him the truth, but didn't make it convincing enough for him to truly believe it. 

Thoughts are whirling in Dean's head as he walks to class that morning. He wasn't able to choke down breakfast, his stomach was pretty much constantly twisted into knots and he knew he wasn't setting a good example for Cas, but he couldn't help it. At least his boyfriend managed to get some coffee and toast into him. That was another concern, the fragility of Cas and how Dean knows without a doubt that the man will spiral once he dies. He wants to count each bite of food as a victory, each day clean as a triumph, but he knows it's just an act to keep him from worrying. Cas had said as much himself.

Dean slides into his seat, trying hard to push away the worries spinning in his brain so that he could focus on class. Finals were coming up, and although the temptation to just blow everything off and not worry about grades on top of everything else was enticing, but it wasn't really in his nature these days. In high school he was the king of blowing things off and never taking anything seriously, but so much had happened his freshman year that he feels like a completely different person. His grades had been suffering as is, so he really needed to pay attention. He didn't want his last acts as a free man to be ones of failure.

At long last, his intro math class was finished, and he could go to his wood-shop elective class with Cas. He had taken the class because Cas was in it, but he found that he enjoyed creating things and it was a constructive outlet for everything that was happening at the moment.

 "Hey, babe," Dean greets Cas, his grief already feeling lighter. "It's good to see you."

Cas smiles in a way that made his heart melt, and he tried to memorize every detail of his face. He would never grow tired of seeing that smile.

"Hello, Dean," he replies, taking his hand and squeezing it.

They begin work, keeping things light and casual. They had made an agreement that they wouldn't talk about heavier subjects while at class; they deserved some time that wasn't completely devoted to depressing topics.

"I was thinking of taking some psychology classes next year," Cas says casually. "I don't really know what I want to do when I get out of college, but psychology seems like a cool subject, and it might help me understand myself a bit more. Therapy would be a good career for me, I think."

"I think so too," Dean agrees wholeheartedly. It was good to see Cas making plans for his life after Dean died. He had worried that he would quit moving, just spiral out of control and never stop. "You've definitely got the right temperament for it. I can't tell you how many times you've managed to calm me down when I get spun up about something."

"Yeah..." Cas pauses thoughtfully. "I just feel like I have to make something out of my illnesses. I mean, they've claimed so much of my life, hell, I've been on antidepressants since I was 12, I just feel like I have to use them for something constructive. I don't like the thought that I've suffered for nothing."

Dean can understand that. He was the same way with religion; before this whole thing with Crowley, he hadn't really believed in any one set religion, but he didn't like thinking that everything that happened in his mortal life was for nothing, that no one was watching and no one cared what happened. The thought of being truly meaningless was not one that Dean wanted to think about. So, he chose to believe that something happened after death, even if he didn't know what. Well, now he does.

"Yeah, I get that," Dean says, his voice slightly strained as he put his whole body into sanding the piece of wood in front of him. "I think you'd be good at it. I don't really understand people who go into mental health careers who don't have any experience with mental illness. People who have struggled with, and overcame, mental illness will always have a more powerful effect on a patient. You'll show them that it's possible to come out the other side in one piece."

"Yeah, that's the vibe I was going for," Cas replies, pausing for a moment to hammer a nail. "I don't know for sure, but it's definitely on the table. Just a thought."

"Of course. You have time to figure yourself out, just do what makes you happy," Dean says with a wink.

" _You_ make me happy, Dean Winchester," his boyfriend says with a determined smile.

"You make me happy too," the taller man says softly. "So unbelievably happy."

Cas's smile wavers a bit, but he cuts his eyes back to the piece in front of him and maintains the gentle smile.

Before they know it, the class period is over, and they part ways again.

 

***

 

_Castiel_

 

He doesn't know how long he can keep doing this. 

Pretending he's okay, acting as if his whole world wasn't about to come apart at the seams. Resisting the urge to cut, forcing food down his throat, avoiding the scale and the mirror, everything. It was too much. He's going to implode sooner or later, and he just hopes to God it's not before Dean dies. He didn't want his boyfriend to have to spend his final moments trying to pick up the pieces. Hell, he's _already_ trying to pick up the pieces with Sam, there's no way he could handle trying to put Cas back together as well.

Sam.

What was he going to do with that boy? Dean was right, legally he was John's. The only thing keeping him here was his father's apathy for the situation. Yes, he could go back for 2 years and then move out, but there's no telling what could happen in those two years. Dean had never gone very in depth, but from what he could tell, John was abusive and neglectful as shit and couldn't be trusted with a plant, let alone a whole-ass child. Foster care is absolutely horrid, he spent about two months there after Luci's abuse came out and the family was shattered. He and his siblings weren't allowed to come home until Luci was removed, and that took time. He remembers sitting in the witness's podium in three day old clothes and unwashed hair and testifying against his brother and having to relive his worst moments. He had never spoken about the abuse before, the only reason it was discovered was when he was literally caught in the act, so the first time he ever got to talk about it was to a lawyer. He was 16 fucking years old.

He suppresses a shudder. Time and trauma blocking had buried this memory deep within him, and he couldn't cope with it for more than a few minutes when it did surface. He knew he would have to, one day, drag it all into the light and deal with it, but that day is not today.

Cas wanted to take Sam in so badly, but he knows that his family is, once again, in shambles, and can't take one more traumatized kid. Plus, legally, Sam still lived with John. His life in the dorm with Dean had been rather hush-hush, but when something big, like a college student death, happens, the authorities tend to start looking deeper.

God, this whole thing was just one big clusterfuck. How were they ever going to come out of this alive? Cas didn't know, but all he could do right now is try to stay afloat, or at least pretend to.

He directs his attention to the clock in front of the auditorium. 7 minutes until class ends. He could, if he wanted to, dip out right now with no consequences, but it just wasn't in his nature to cut class. So he can suffer for another 7 minutes. It'll be fine.

When those 7 agonizing minutes are over, he's the first one out the door. Cas makes a beeline for the library, where he and Dean were going to meet before going out to dinner. They've been going out on dates a lot more often, recently, and Cas knows it's because of the approaching end date. He tries not to think about that, and just enjoy the time he does have with Dean now.

"Hey, sweetheart," Dean says upon seeing him, his face relaxing into a tired, but relieved smile.

"Hey," Cas replies softly, a similar smiling spreading across his own. It had been an emotionally rough day, but all it took was a single smile from Dean Winchester to put things right again.

Cas outstretches his hand, his boyfriend taking it and pulling him closer to his side. It was their 9 month anniversary, and the last one they'll ever have. It was a Friday night, and the evening air hinted at a cool night with a slight breeze. Perfect for stargazing later that night.

They cross campus to the parking lot and climb into Dean's car, the low purr of the engine a peaceful background sound. Cas pushes all his negative thoughts and inadequacies aside, determined to spend this evening living in the moment, without a thought of what was to happen in three weeks' time.

"How was your day, my dear?" Dean asks as he pulls out of the parking lot.

"Oh, it was just a day," Cas replies casually. "A bit tiring, but I feel better now that you're here."

"Same here," Dean says, clearing his throat. "I wasn't even in class that long, but I was exhausted by the time it was over. You do a good job at picking me up, though."

"Glad to hear it," Cas says truthfully. If nothing else, he was good for making Dean happy.

Dean puts a tape into the cassette player, and LED Zeppelin starts blasting from the speakers. Castiel wasn't really classic rock type; he preferred more indie music, but when he was in the Impala with Dean, anything could be playing and he would enjoy it.

After awhile, they pulled into a sushi place on the other side of town. It was Cas's favorite place to eat, and Dean had never tried sushi, so he agreed to try it tonight. If he didn't like it, there were other things on the menu, he had said.

Dean was a bit underdressed for the place in his flannel and leather jacket, but Cas had put on a dress shirt and some nicer jeans along with his tie, and he had left his trench coat at the dorm. He felt slightly naked without it on, but it was in need of a good dry cleaning and the cuffs were quite frayed, so he decided to forego it. His shirt had long sleeves anyway, so it helped him feel less vulnerable. There was a scar or two peeking out from the cuff, but they were several years old and had since faded significantly.

They take a seat, and peruse the menu.

"I can't tell what the hell most of these say," Dean says, squinting at the menu. 

"Well, it's not in Japanese, and they have a description below the name, so maybe try reading it closer." Cas snarks with a playful wink.

Dean rolls his eyes and goes back to studying the menu as if he were deciphering an ancient tablet that belonged in a museum.

They order, and soon enough their food is brought to him.

"This is raw fish," Dean states, looking at his plate of food.

"Uh, yeah?" Cas says, slightly perplexed. "What did you think it would be?"

"I don't know, just not...raw," Dean says defensively.

"They train for years to make sushi safely, Dean, and this is a higher end place, you're not going to contract anything and die from this place, unless you lick the floor or something," Cas explains patiently. "So, like...control yourself maybe."

Dean scrunches up his face and says  _control yourself maybe_  in a mocking tone at Cas, who in turn laughs unrestrainedly.

"Your laugh is literally the best sound I've ever heard in my life," Dean says seriously.

"Oh really?" Cas asks, surprised. "I always thought it was a bit annoying."

"Nope. Not at all. I just kinda wish I heard it more often," Dean says, almost wistfully.

"Make some better jokes and you might get that wish," Cas counters.

Dean chuckles, and turns to his food. He takes a cautious experimental bite, as if he were putting something vaguely radioactive in his mouth. His eyebrows lift in surprise, and he chews the sushi roll more enthusiastically.

"This is really good!" he exclaims through a mouthful of food.

"Don't speak with your mouth full, you neanderthal. We're in a nice place," Cas says, half-joking.

Dean rolls his eyes again and swallows his food. "Better?" he asks sarcastically.

"Much," Cas says before taking a bite of his roll. He closes his eyes and savors it. It had been awhile since he had been here, maybe two years ago, when he turned 17? It was an annual birthday treat, and Cas missed it.

The evening passes in good fun and high spirits, and by the time they split the bill, all worries and concerns have left Cas, and he felt truly, genuinely happy.

It's deeper into the night by now, and Dean had promised Cas the best place to stargaze in all of Lawrence. Cas had never truly stargazed, he had always lived in a place that had a rather large amount of light pollution, and he could never see more than a few stars.

It was a bit of a long drive, 30 minutes maybe, and they had left the city lights far behind, taking back roads at high speeds. Cas eases his grip on the arm rest after a few miles, feeling himself slip into a state of exhilarated bliss, the wind blasting through the rolled-down windows tousling his hair wildly as he surrenders to the moment.

The drive was made in silence, save for the roaring of the engine and the chaos of the wind, and Castiel was seized with the wild concept that he's flown like this before, like he once had wings and this is as close as he could get to the days where he could fly amongst the thunderstorms. The notion passes almost as suddenly as it arrived, but Cas was content to imagine himself soaring above the clouds as the wind whips his face.

As all things do, the drive ends and the Impala slows to a crawl, the grass and gravel crunching beneath the tires as the car stops.

"Well, this is it, Cas," Dean says, a smile wide across his face as he retrieves a blanket from the trunk. "My favorite place in all of Kansas. I'm finally sharing it with my favorite person." he adds with a wink.

Cas blushes a bit before allowing his boyfriend to take his hand and lead him to a patch of open grass. Dean spreads the blanket onto the ground, and the two settle onto the forest floor, their bodies firmly pressed from shoulder to hip, Cas draping his legs over Dean's and resting his head on his shoulder.

The stars are, put simply, breathtaking. Cas is gripped with a brief and unpleasant sense of deja vu as he remembers that horrible night, lying on the ground, ejected from the Impala and bleeding out slowly on the asphalt. He pushed the memory away and focuses on the way it felt to be alive, to be alive and living with Dean for these precious few days. Their breath, their chests rising and falling in sync, the way the warmth of Dean's body seeps into his own, and the wonderful sensation of being close, touching another human, the person he loves the most.

"It's beautiful," Cas says softly, mesmerized by the vast expanse of stars and the faint outline of the Milky Way stretching across the heavens. Cas feels another pull at his chest, as if he knew the stars more intimately than most others. Like he was present the day they were born.

"Much like someone else I know," Dean says, a provoking smile on his lips.

Cas laughs softly, shifting to his side and throwing his arm across Dean's chest. God, if he could only stay like this forever.

"You're missing the stars, Cas," Dean says, but he rolls onto his side as well to face Cas. His hands  come up and touch his boyfriend's face, his fingertips ghosting over his cheekbones as he rubs his thumb lovingly over his skin. Cas melts into his touch, savoring the feeling before leaning in to kiss him.

They had kissed many times, and Cas had cherished each and every one. Their first kiss (his first ever kiss) had been like lightning, suddenly filling him with a charge he never knew he could possess, but this? This one felt like coming home.

The kisses deepen, mouths open and hot as they kiss with a passion Cas never thought was possible. His hands rove over Dean's body, and he presses himself closer, and even then they couldn't get close enough.

Clothes came off, feeling soared high, and love was made under the blanket of stars. Cas had never felt like he fit as well anywhere else like he did when his body was moulded to Dean's. Nothing else mattered in that moment except for the lovely sensation of skin on skin, lips on lips, and hearts on hearts

After they finished, they laid together, still naked, still high on the afterglow. Cas didn't love his body, and he was still ashamed of his scars, but for some reason, with only Dean and the stars as his witness, he had never felt more beautiful than he did at this moment.

Sleep soon overtakes them, and Cas slips into a deep, dreamless slumber. For once, everything was perfect.

 


	25. The Day Grows Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm back! I've been working on this chapter whenever I can, and I'm gonna try and keep writing amidst my busy schedule. Without further ado, I present chapter 25. Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> -Wren

_Samuel_

 

 

_we need to talk, sammy. wanna go for a drive when you get home?_

Sam stares at the text he just received from his brother. Trepidation and uneasiness churns in his stomach as he tries to imagine what they would need to talk about. His primary fear is that Dean had found out he was cutting again, and he clutches the sleeves of his hoodie reactively. There were fresh cuts, maybe three days old, crisscrossing his upper arms at the moment. He had been clean for years, until that happened with his ex...he couldn't even speak his name or what happened aloud. Just thinking about It made his stomach turn over with anxiety, feeling like his ex would be waiting for him outside the classroom door, just waiting to do It all over again.

_yeah sure. everything good?_

Sam inhales, and exhales, trying to fit the pattern his therapist gave him. In for 4 counts, hold for 7 counts, out for 8 counts. The smallest things aggravated his anxiety now, always hyper-vigilant for the next threat, the next mention of his ex. He grips his sleeves again, pushing a thumb into one of the deeper cuts through his hoodie, the pain grounding him and reminding him of what's real.

He sees the text bubble dots moving for a good minute, before pausing and delivering the text.

_we'll talk after school_

Dean's reply does nothing to ease his anxiety, but he supposes he'll find out soon enough.

After what felt like hours, Sam could feel the pressure in his chest easing up, and slowly, each breath felt less like a battle. He knew he would end up having an anxiety or panic attack later; these coping skills just postponed the inevitable. But for now, he needs to concentrate on pre-cal. His impending freak-out can wait.

Class passes agonizingly slowly, but Sam can't tell if he wants to talk to Dean as soon as possible to get it over with, or if he wants his class to never end and never talk to his brother about whatever it was.

As the final bell rings and Sam walks out of the building, he sees his brother's Impala waiting for him out front. Uneasiness twists in his gut again, but he swallows it down and forces himself to move forward and get in the car.

The car door shuts, and silence falls. The sound of people talking and cars starting up are muffled, but the pounding of Sam's heart throbs loudly in his head. God, he was way too anxious already; he didn't even know what they're going to talk about and he's already panicking.

Dean shifts the car into drive and cruises out of the parking lot, slowing to a crawl to avoid a potential casualty in the crowded high school lot.

"So..." Sam starts, his voice rough and cottony. "What did you want to talk about?"

Dean's hand grips and twists on the steering wheel, and he takes a deep breath. He appears just as nervous as Sam.

"It's...it's a lot. And I don't know if you'll ever believe me, or forgive me for it." his older brother says, his eyes still fixed on the road ahead. Sam is somewhat relieved that the issue doesn't concern him, but he still doesn't like what Dean is saying.

"Whatever you've done, whatever happened, I'll still love you for it," Sam says quietly, popping a few of his knuckles anxiously.

Dean inhales shakily, before letting out his breath in a sharp puff. "I guess I'll just, you know, start at the beginning and hopefully...hopefully I'll be able to say it right."

"Take your time," Sam reassures him, still in a muted tone. He's shifted into the role Dean usually takes on--the protecter, the anchor. Whatever was happening wasn't about him; he needed to be there for Dean.

His brother emits a short, humorless laugh. "I don't really have the time, but thanks."

He takes another breath before beginning.

"Okay, Sammy, I just want you to know I love you, and I'm sorry. But here goes...

"Ten months ago, you remember when Cas and I got into that wreck, right? He almost died, and Ibroke my arms. Yeah? Alright, well...it got kinda weird. I woke up in the hospital, and I didn't know if Cas was even still alive. Then this man appeared in my room. I thought he was some kind of fever dream, at first, but I knew I was awake and aware. He said his name was Crowley, and he told me...he told me that Cas was dying, and that he could stop it. I didn't believe him, of course, nobody would. But when I told him that, he walked over to me and touched my forehead, and all of a sudden we were in Cas' room. And Sammy...it was so bad."

Dean stops his story, and Sam hears him forcibly gulp down the lump in his throat. Even almost a year later, thinking about that night was unbearable for everyone, Sam included. He didn't like where this was going; in all honesty it sounded fucking crazy, and he didn't think he'd be able to believe it, even though it was coming from the person he trusted the most.

Dean clears his throat and takes another breath before continuing.

"He had tubes and wires everywhere, the dude was fucking intubated and IV'd and everything. He looked like...well, he looked like death. And in that moment, I believed that guy. I did. But when he offered to help, he said that in return I would need to give him my soul."

The last word dropped off into silence, and Sam feels horrifically surreal, and he doesn't believe Dean for a second. His mouth works silently before he finally gets out a sentence.

"What the ever-loving _fuck_ are you talking about?!" he says, his voice coming out scared and angry. He doesn't believe the story at all, he's more worried about the mental condition of his brother; the Dean he knows would not fall for that.

"Sammy, I know, it's a lot, but he gave me a time limit and I--"

"No, fuck this!" Sam interrupts him. "You need to get help. Like, professional fucking help."

Dean's grip on the wheel tightens, and Sam can see the pain twisting up his face. He feels barely a sliver of pity; he wants to know what's really going on.

"I'm trying to talk to you, dammit! I have less than two weeks left and I'm trying to say goodbye." Dean chokes out the last few words, his voice breaking on "goodbye".

Sam just stares silently with his mouth slightly parted in shock at Dean, completely and totally speechless. He would rather have his brother find out about his cutting than whatever clusterfuck this was.

"You're saying goodbye?" Sam finally says. "No. I'm not accepting it. Whatever is going on with you, you need to tell me the truth, not some half-baked crackhead story. How stupid do you think I am?"

"I don't think you're stupid, Sam," Dean says quietly. "We both know who's the smarter one here."

All of a sudden, it's too much. The anxiety, the stress, the absolute shitshow of a conversation, everything was too much and he couldn't breathe.

"Dean, stop the car, stop the fucking car, stop!" Sam gasps out, the close quarters of the car setting off his claustrophobia and worsening his panic attack.

Without hesitating, Dean veers the car off the road and pulls up beside a bar ditch, where Sam opens the door and crashes to the ground in a fit of gasps and sobs as the panic attack consumes him.

He becomes aware of Dean slamming the door and crouching beside him, placing his fingertips on the back of his shoulder blade to ground him without overloading his senses. Just like old times, when his panic attacks were a daily occurrence.

Sam's mind is moving at light speed, but somehow clouded and murky at the same time. As gasps and sobs and embarrassingly high-pitched keening shook his body, all he can think about is the possibility that Dean was right, not necessarily in the whole "sacrifice my soul to Satan" way, but that maybe he was sort of telling the truth and really did have only a matter of days. And with Dean gone, there would be no one to protect him from his ex.

Soon, the tears and hyperventilation slowed and stalled as he gradually regained control of his body and mind, until he was laying on his side silently, completely and totally exhausted. His limbs felt far too heavy to move, so he stayed on the ground for a few minutes more. Dean's hand was flat against his back, rubbing in gentle circles now that the worst of it was past.

"You'll be okay, Sammy, everything is fine. You're safe. You're safe," Dean whispers softly, his voice even and steady. He knew the drill, this was hardly a new situation, but he so deeply appreciates how solid and warm Dean was when things got bad. Sometimes he could be an asshole, but Sam knew that Dean loved him unconditionally, even when he was reduced to a puddle of tears and anxiety on the side of the road.

"He's fine, this happens. He's okay," he hears Dean's voice, directed somewhere behind him. Someone had found them like this. This also happens occasionally, but Dean always manages to direct them away and help Sam save face.

Eventually, Sam's strength returns and he heaves his body off the ground, his head throbbing and his hands shaking. He pauses on his hands and knees, breathing deeply as he rocks back onto his heels and stands up. God, it had been awhile since he had an attack this bad, and he did not miss it whatsoever.

"I'm sorry, Sammy, I didn't mean to set you off. I--"

"Don't. Just...don't," Sam cuts him off, thoroughly done with whatever bullshit Dean was talking about. "Just take me home. Back to the dorm. Please."

Dean shuts his mouth reluctantly, but obliges anyway.

The drive home was long and silent, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken words.

 

***

 

_**~much later~** _

 

 

He didn't believe him.

Plain and simple.

He did not believe one word Dean Winchester said. The phantom man, the deal, his supposed expiration date, none of it. He refused to. How could such a thing be true? Giving up your soul to a demon, what the fuck was that about? What was so bad that his brother felt the need to make up such a huge lie?

It didn't matter, Sam decided. If Dean wasn't going to tell him the truth, then it was obviously of no consequence. Whatever is supposedly going to happen in two weeks would happen whether Sam believed him or not.

The water is hot on his back, the bathroom filled with steam and his senses numbed by the hiss of water and the darkness of the room. He had started showering in the dark at maybe 13 years old; he found it relaxing and comforting to not have information constantly assaulting his senses all the time. He's sitting on the floor of the tub, his legs tucked close to his chest and his head resting on his knees. All he wants to do is dissolve in this moment, come apart and forget about everything and get washed down the drain with the rest of the dirt.

So what if Dean was lying to him. So what if he didn't believe a word he said. What does it matter to have one more thing weighing him down, after everything that has happened in the past few months. It doesn't matter. He doesn't matter. Right now he can't feel anything except the steady stream of water bearing down on his slowly numbing back.

After a while--hours, minutes, who knows--the water starts to cool and turns to ice shortly after, but Sam doesn't move. His body shakes and shivers, but he doesn't feel it. He doesn't feel anything.

"Sammy?"

Dean's voice is heard outside the bathroom door, slightly startling Sam and bringing his mind back to reality. He doesn't answer. He knows he should, he's been in there a while and Dean starts to worry about him when he takes too long in the shower. Suicide wasn't really on the menu these days, but he knows his brother is going to worry about him even when he's 70, so he usually keeps his showers under 20 minutes, maybe 30 if he's really not feeling good.

"Hey, Sammy, you okay? Answer me. Please."

His brother's voice is tight, as if he's holding back tears, or afraid. Guilt finds its way into Sam's heart, and he clears his throat before answering.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just...taking awhile."

Dean is silent for a second. "Okay. Just...hurry up, please? Cas made dinner."

"Okay," Sam responds, barely loud enough to be heard over the running water. The cold was starting to get to him, and his teeth chattered in sync with the tremors wracking his body. He turns off the water and turns on the lights, squinting in pain for a second from the bright lights.

He is rather hungry, and Cas is a good cook, so he quickly towels himself dry and slips into the boxers, sweatpants, and t-shirt he brought into the bathroom to change into. His fingers and toes were starting to regain feeling, and the shower did a good job of cleansing his mental state as well.

As he enters the kitchen, the heavenly aroma of food envelops him. He doesn't know what it it, but it smells good enough to kick start his appetite. Maybe this is what he needs to feel better, a good meal and a solid night's rest.

"Hello, Sam," Cas says warmly, offering a genuine smile. Sam smiles back despite himself; Cas's smiles tended to have that effect on people.

"Hey, Cas. What did you make?" Sam replies, poking around the pots on the stovetop. They rarely ate real food like this, usually it was either fast food or something frozen.

"I'm trying my hand at Mexican food. It's carne guisada," he explains. "I'm not sure if I'm any good at it yet, but I guess we'll find out."

"Sounds good to me," Sam agrees.

They pile beans, rice, and some sort of meat and sauce onto their plastic plates, and take a seat around the small dining room table. Everything seems so surreally normal, as if his panic attack and Dean's whacked-out story had happened weeks ago. Sam is grateful for the sense of normalcy, but it feels misplaced for some reason.

They eat in amicable chatter, complimenting Cas on his food, exchanging stories about their day, and just generally being normal people. Sam finds it relieving, but he still can't look at his brother without thinking of what was said on the car ride home. So he doesn't.

"Hey, Sammy, did Cas tell you he's changing his major to psychology?" Dean asks around a mouthful of rice.

"No, you didn't," Sam says, surprised. Cas had just been a General Education major for the majority of the school year; Sam kinda gleaned that he hadn't really planned on being alive long enough to get to where he was now. He understood that on a rather personal level.

"Yes, I thought going into therapy would be a good fit for me," Cas says, a soft smile on his lips. "I...I just want to make the most of what's happened to me. I'm sure you understand."

Sam lets out a dry laugh. "Yes, just a little. Well, I'm happy for you. I still don't know what I'm going to do, so you're better off than me at the moment."

"You've got time," Cas reassures him. "You're sixteen--almost seventeen, I know--and you've got all the time in the world. Just focus on your grades and mental health and you'll be golden."

"So you're already starting with the therapist-speak, huh?" Sam says, a half-smile finding his mouth.

Cas chuckles softly, scooping up another forkful of carne guisada. "Never hurts to be prepared."

Sam can sense Dean shift uncomfortably at that comment, but he pushes away the uneasiness. There was nothing to be said about the situation, he kept having to tell himself. If Dean wasn't going to be honest, there was nothing he could do about it.

Soon enough, the three finish eating, and Dean and Cas retreat to their shared bedroom to watch a movie on Dean's laptop. Sam was grateful that they stopped being idiots and finally started sharing a bed so that he could have Cas's bed instead of the mattress shoved between Dean's bed and the wall. He was grateful for a lot of things in that regard, actually. Seeing the way his brother was with Cas was so comforting. Growing up in the kind of household they had didn't leave a lot of room for peace and happiness. Whatever solace they did have was always in the shadow of their father. So seeing Dean so happy with that man did his heart good.

Left to his own devices, Sam often spends his time reading or writing. He doesn't consider his writing any kind of good, but it's cathartic. He really should call it "Journaling But With Extra Steps" since everything he writes about is just his life, but in a fictitious setting. Just plain journaling seemed a little drab, and redundant. Additionally, growing up with his father and a nosy older brother just begged for his privacy to be invaded. So no journaling for him.

Today, he makes his main character deal with the betrayal of his good friend, causing flashbacks and panic attacks galore, and he rather enjoys writing of the intense emotions and mental turmoil his character is facing. Sam knows he's just projecting his own feelings into his character, but it helps him feel a little less alone. He once let a past girlfriend, Jessica, read it, but she didn't really understand the motive behind it. She just thought Sam was being cruel. The relationship was short lived, as Sam figured out he was gay a few months in. Jess has figured that out in a matter of weeks, but thought it best to let him find out on his own. They remained friends, with no bad blood between them. He hasn't talked to her since he started dating his ex. His ex was controlling, even from the beginning, and Sam drifted away from most of his friends during their relationship. After the breakup, his friends welcomed him back with open arms. He didn't realize how lonely he had been until his friend Adam enveloped him in a crushing hug.

A knock at the door startles Sam out of his thoughts, and he snaps his journal shut reflexively.

"Come in," Sam says, shoving his journal between the frame of the bed and his mattress.

The door opens, and Sam is surprised to see Cas's face in the doorway, not Dean's.

"Hey, Sam," Cas says softly. "Can I talk to you?"

Sam nods, shuffling to one side of his bed to make room for Cas.

Cas settles on the edge of his bed, smiling at Sam warmly. There was something so comforting and calming about Cas's presence, even though Sam knew Cas was a ball of anxiety himself.

"Is everything okay?" Sam asks, a little uneasy despite the calmness Cas exuded.

"Yeah, everything is fine, don't worry. I just...wanted to say something to you."

Sam nods, prompting Cas to go on.

"I know you've been cutting again."

Sam's heart drops to his stomach, and he clutches his hoodie's cuffs reflexively, crossing his arms over his stomach. He doesn't say anything to defend himself, he knows he's not going to bullshit Cas as easily as he could his brother.

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm here, and I get it. You know I do. I know...I know Dean can be a little high-strung at times, and that he's not the easiest person to confide in, given how emotional he gets about you. So...if you ever feel like cutting, I want you to know you can come find me, and I'll do my best to help you. Even if you've already hurt yourself, you can still come get me. There's no judgement here."

Sam nods, genuinely grateful. There was just one thing....

"Please don't tell Dean," he says quietly, almost fearfully.

Cas presses his lips together in a thin line. "You know, I really should tell him. But I'm not going to. He's got a lot of stuff going on, and I know it's not good to cut, but I have faith that you'll get help before you do anything that could endanger your life. But if I don't tell him, you need to promise me you'll come get me if you feel like hurting yourself."

Sam's chest relaxes in a rush of relief, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Thank you, Cas. I promise I'll tell you. I'm not going to kill myself either, that's not really something I think about anymore. Just this...this whole thing with Gabr—my ex, it just really...it really fucking broke me."

Cas's face creases with pain, and Sam feels stupid for bringing it up. Of course he doesn't want to hear that his brother is the reason he's hurting himself. Why the fuck would he say that to him?

"I'm sorry, Cas, I know he's your brother, but—"

"Don't apologize, Sam, please. I don't care if he is my brother, he hurt you—hell, he fucking traumatized you, and you're allowed to be broken over that. You're allowed to have emotions."

Sam nods again, still feeling guilty for bringing up what happened.

"Can I...can I see your arms? Please?" Cas asks, his eyes on Sam's folded arms.

Sam grips his cuffs tighter, inhaling sharply, but he eventually relaxes and offers his arms. He hated showing Dean his cuts, and he knows that Dean stares at his scars sometimes, no doubt remembering that horrible night when he tried to kill himself. But Cas gets it. Cas is safe.

Cas gently takes his arms and turns them so his hand is facing upwards, and he pulls up the sleeves. His forearms were bare, except for the telltale suicide scars running lengthwise, with a dozen or so other scars mapping his both his wrists.

"They're a little higher up, gimme a second," Sam says, shrugging off his hoodie. He keeps it close, just in case Dean decides to come in.

The cuts had healed well, some had gotten to the stage where they itched like hell, with the deeper ones scabbed over enough to where they don't open by themselves and start bleeding.

Cas carefully touches one of the deeper ones, his fingers cold against the heated flesh. Sam looks away, ashamed of himself.

"Hey. It's okay," Cas says, gently hooking Sam's jaw and turning him to face him. "You know I'd never judge you over something like this. I'm just making sure you don't need stitches. It's too late for stitches, actually, but I just wanted to make sure you didn't go too deep."

Cas releases his hold on Sam's arm, allowing him to get back into his hoodie.

"Can I see yours? It's okay if you don't want me to," Sam adds quickly.

"It's fine, of course you can," Cas says. "There's nothing fresh, but if it would make you feel better then you can see the scars."

Cas takes off his trench coat and rolls up his sleeves.

His skin is almost like a textured map, with barely any room between scars. Sam sees his matching suicide scars, still slightly purple even after all these months. He runs a finger over them lightly, cringing over the obvious depth of the wounds.

"I've never actually met another guy with scars," Sam admits, withdrawing his hand. "It's always girls. People tell me I'm stupid for cutting, that it's only for girls with daddy issues, but they don't know what it's like. That's why I wear long sleeves, even when I'm clean."

Cas nods, rolling his sleeves down but keeping the trench coat off. "I understand that. I didn't meet another guy that cut until my senior year, but he only cut himself a couple times before he decided it wasn't for him. So I felt alone."

"Living like this is lonely," Sam says hollowly. "Everyone says they care and that they're here for me, but when it's 3am and I've cut myself so many times I can't see skin, nobody is there for me. It's just me. Alone."

"I understand that perfectly," Cas says. "Even with four other siblings and two parents in the house, I always felt so alone sitting on the edge of the bathtub with a razor in my hand. But now you're not alone. Anytime you need me, even if I'm not home, you can text me and I'll drop everything. I promise."

Sam smiles weakly, grateful despite the sad heaviness in his stomach.

"Thank you."

"Of course, Sam. Anything for you."

With that, Cas pats Sam's knee and rises, leaving Sam to continue writing.


	26. Christmas Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm working on the next real chapter, but here's a short little Christmas chapter to help usher in the holiday cheer. Happy Hanukah, Kwanzaas, Christmas, Yule, and whatever holiday you lovely readers may be celebrating. Enjoy!
> 
> -Wren

_Dean_

 

The morning sun streams through the paper-thin curtains in Dean and Cas's bedroom, dappling them both in light and warmth. It got dark early around this time of year, but when the sun was out it generally promised a mild day. It was December, but no snow had fallen this year. Well, nothing that stuck anyway.

Dean's eyes flutter open slowly, for a brief moment suspended in a blissful trance in which he felt nothing but a gentle sense of peace. He glances to his right to see Cas's eyes on him, soft and full of a sort of love Dean never thought he'd be able to experience.

"Good morning, sunshine," Cas says with a smile.

"G'morning, moonlight," Dean replies sleepily with a matching smile, before pulling him close for a kiss.

The ever-constant threat of his impending expiration date loomed over him, but mornings were reserved for the two C's: coffee and Castiel. With no exceptions. Under the sheets, tangled with each other, nothing could hurt them. 

"Merry Christmas, my dear," Cas says, his voice rough and deep and so very sexy with sleep, carding his hand through Dean's hair and resting his palm on his cheek.

The lightbulb goes off in Dean's head. Christmas! 

"Oh yeah, it is Christmas," Dean says stretching a bit. "Oh fuck, we haven't even gone Christmas shopping! Or at least I haven't, and I haven't even gotten around to putting the lights on that tree we got out of storage, I can't believe I'm going to make Sammy have the lamest Christmas ever!"

"Hush," Cas says, placing a finger on Dean's lips, a sly smile crossing his face. "Come out into the living room before you say another word."

Dean opens his mouth again to protest, but falls silent under a well-meaning glare from Cas. He feels terrible, and feels a huge sense of loss at the thought of his first Christmas out of his abusive home--and now his last Christmas ever--he had failed to make it a favorably memorable event for Sam. The world selfish doesn't even begin to cover him at this point.

"Close your eyes now," Cas says, covering Dean's eyes with his hands.  

"Sam! He's awake!" Dean hears Cas call out, and hope rises in him at the thought of maybe, just maybe, having a halfway decent Christmas through some miracle that Cas and Sam pulled off.

Dean feels Sam take his hand and lead him into the main living area. Cas removes his hands as he and Sam shout, "Surprise!!"

When Dean opens his eyes, tears rush to his waterline and threaten to spill over.

Cas and Sam had obviously been busy while Dean was sleeping. While it wasn't anything wildly extravagant, it was the most perfect thing Dean had ever seen.

Tinsel had been strung across all the doorframes, as well as lights lining the walls casting the room in a soft glow, and the previously bare tree had been covered with tinsel, lights, and a variety of dollar store ornaments and handmade treasures that Dean had brought with him at the beginning of the year to decorate the tree with. There were a little less than a dozen presents under the tree as well, much to Dean's relief. Muted Christmas music could be heard playing from a speaker in the kitchen, and he felt so much emotion in his chest that he felt as if his ribcage would crack with the weight of it all.

"Do you like it?" 

Dean turns to face Sam, a look of excited apprehension on his face. 

"It's perfect, Sam. I can't believe you two were able to do all this last night! How did I sleep through all this?!"

Sam shoots a look at Cas, who looked a little put out, before flashing a mischievous grin at Dean.  "Cas was very against the idea, he said it was 'unethical', but I basically drugged your beer at dinner last night. Just a shot or two of NyQuil, nothing hard or anything."

Dean is suddenly provided an explanation for his uncharacteristic energy drop at 6pm leading to a bedtime at 7, followed by the deepest and most dreamless sleep he has had in years. A disbelieving smile spreads across his face as he starts to laugh.

"I can't believe you fucking drugged my drink. That's like...that's like _peak_ chaos energy. I'm a little proud, actually." he admits, still chuckling a bit. 

Sam crosses the distance between them and wraps his brother in a hug. Cas follows suit, and Dean finds himself surrounded with people that he knew, for a fact, loved him and cared about him so much more than he ever thought he deserved. The detail that he would almost certainly never see either of them again in a little over a week didn't escape him, but it was pushed aside for the time being.

"Where did you get all the gifts?" Dean asks, throwing a look over to the modest pile of wrapped presents huddled under the tree. Cas pulls back to look at him.

"Well, Sam and I did our shopping for you and each other together on Black Friday, but when it started looking like you weren't going to be able to get anything, I talked to my friends in the orchestra and they said they could hook us up. Some gave money, some gave food, some gave presents, but after all was said and done, we had a pretty good little start on Christmas for our family." Cas explains.

"Our family," Dean repeats, the words hitting him hard. He had a family. Cas considered him family. He had considered Cas family from the moment he met him, but it didn't occur to him that it was mutual. He knew Sam and Cas were close too, and that warmed him. Sam never really got involved with Dean's girlfriends, but he and Cas really seemed to connect.

"Well, I have some hot cocoa and cookies the viola section contributed, so if you want we can start now," Sam says, still beaming.

"Oh _hell_ yes," Dean says, clapping Sam on the back. "I cannot believe you guys pulled this off. This is going to be the best Christmas in a hell of a long time."

"Let's hope so," Cas says warmly.

Cocoa is poured, cookies are served, presents are opened, and hearts are warmed. For this one moment, everything is okay. 

 


	27. Last Minute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, sorry it took so long to update! Things are,,,,,real spicy rn so writing isn't very high on my to do list. I'll work as hard as I can for the next update! Anyway, enjoy!
> 
> -Wren

_Castiel_

 

Two days.

That's all they had left.

All emotions have left Castiel, and he sits numbly on the edge of the bed, staring into nothing. Dean won't even make it to the new year. He'll never see the turn of this decade, 2020. He'll never see fireworks again, or watch the Time's Square ball drop on TV. 

Everything hurt, but he didn't feel a thing at the same time. The numb sort of ache that came from being utterly, and completely depressed and anguished. 

He knows it's harder for Dean than it is for him. He feels selfish, like he wasn't allowed to grieve because he was still alive. Dean had told him about how horrible he feels leaving him and Sam to try and carry on after his death. How self-centered and selfish he was when he made the agreement with that demon. Cas assured him he would have done the same thing for him, but he wasn't sure that he would. He knows what it's like to not want to be alive anymore. Would he have respected that? Or would he have brought him back, come hell or high water?

It's easy to speculate on what one might have happened if they were in that situation, but in all reality nobody knew how they would react in that sort of circumstance until they're actually there.

Fresh cuts itch on his thighs, burning and painful against the rough material of his jeans. He had broken that morning. He fought to stay clean and use his coping skills, just until Dean was gone, but he couldn't do it anymore.

He felt like a dirty hypocrite. He had implored Sam to come to him when he felt the urge to hurt himself, only to slice his own skin up a few days later. He hasn't told anyone, and he doesn't think he will. Dean had enough guilt as is. And it's not right to dump it on Sam, either. 

He hears the door open and close out in the main living area, and he shakes his head to clear his thoughts, pasting on a fake smile as he goes to greet Dean and help with the groceries.

"Hey, sweetheart," Dean says, pressing a kiss to Cas's lips.

"Hello, Dean," Cas replies, trying so hard to find the overwhelming love he felt when close to Dean. He can't find anything but sadness now, though.

"Sammy, come help with the groceries!" Dean called out. His voice held no trace of grief, but Cas knew it was killing him to keep up the normal facade for Sam and himself.

"Coming!" Sam's voice shouted from his bedroom (previously Cas's), and his thundering moose-footsteps came closer down the hall.

Cas silently slips past Dean to the Impala, clenching and relaxing his fists anxiously. He grabbed a few shopping bags and brought them inside. He was usually so good at pretending to be okay, but today it was like pulling teeth just to manage a smile. He found himself trying to convince his mind that Dean wasn't going to Hell, that it was just a strange, morphine-induced fever dream and they were freaking out about nothing. But he knew, somehow, deep in his heart that it was real. He doesn't know why, but everything in him said that Dean was not long for this world.

"You doing okay, Cas?" Dean says, just loudly enough for his boyfriend to hear.

"Of course. Just...just tired," Cas says, putting on what he hoped was an easy smile.

Dean nods, but Cas knows he doesn't believe him. He really was tired, honestly, he didn't even wake when Dean got up and got dressed to go shopping. It was 1 in the afternoon before he managed to get up. Usually he was quite the early bird, ready for the day by 8. Not today, or this past week though.

Sam disappeared to his room after the groceries were all brought in, most likely to write. Cas doesn't know if he believes Dean was going to die in a few days, or if he thinks Dean is just losing it. The subject was only brought up once, and with disastrous results. 

As they were putting the food away, the air buzzed with unasked questions. Lately there was silences between them, long and stretched out and uncomfortable. Logic says they should be spending as much time talking and being with each other as they can, but for some reason they couldn't.

They had abandoned the 300 day bucket list as well, around a week and a half ago. Cas argued that they should do their best to keep Dean's spirit alive and happy before he goes, but Dean was adamant it would change nothing, and it was just a silly and dramatic display he put on that seemed like a good idea at the time. Cas knew his boyfriend was feeling just as lost and hopeless as he did, but there really wasn't much to do about it now.

Two days.

Everything was going to be taken from him in two days.

"How was traffic?" Cas asks, trying to fill the silence.

"Not bad, actually. The lull between Christmas and New Years is hit and miss, actually. The only slow spots were in the construction zone."

"Yeah, I hate construction zones." 

Silence again.

"Do you want to do something later? A date, maybe?" Cas asks.

Dean smiles, looking away from the groceries in his hands and up at Castiel. His candy-apple eyes were so goddamn beautiful.

"Yeah, I'd really like that. What do you have in mind?"

"I don't know. I was thinking maybe a movie and dinner. Maybe we could do something with Sam tomorrow. I know you want to spend some time with him, too." Cas says.

"You're right. I feel guilty leaving him by himself. I really worry about the kid, sometimes." Dean says, looking anxiously down the hall at Sam's room.

Cas bites the inside of his cheek, thinking of the secret he's keeping from Dean regarding Sam's cutting. He promised he wouldn't tell, but it feels all wrong to keep it from Dean. There wasn't any point in telling him, but he still felt icky about it.

"He'll be okay," Cas says, trying to convince himself and his boyfriend at the same time. "I'll make sure of it. Somehow."

"Thank you, Cas," Dean says quietly.

"Anything for you," Cas replies, equally as quiet. He takes a breath and tries to smile. "So what movie do you want to see?"

"I've been wanting to see the new _Star Wars_ , actually, but I heard it wasn't very good." Dean answers.

"Yeah, that's what I heard. I think it's worth giving it a try, though." Cas says. He had never been much of a _Star Wars_ fan, but he remembers fondly that night, a year ago, when Dean sat him down and did a _Star Wars_ marathon with him, and how they saw each new movie as soon as it came out since then. This last one they had put off seeing due to the strenuous circumstances, so Cas hopes it'll be a welcome break. 

"You're lucky Sammy isn't into _Star Wars_ , or else he'd have to third wheel very hard," Dean says, cracking a smile.

Cas laughs, and the act of it hurts his chest. "I wouldn't mind. He's a great kid. Funny, too."

"Yeah. Yeah he is..." Dean says, almost wistfully. His eyes have a faraway look in them, moving back to the hallway and staring at Sam's door again. Cas immediately feels guilty for bringing it up, and he really isn't liking the recent frequency of that feeling. He knows it's nothing compared to what Dean must be feeling, though.

"Anyway," Dean continues, snapping his gaze away and blinking the sadness out of his eyes. "I'll look at some showings, see what's available. Thanks for helping me with the groceries. You said you wanted to see your parents before New Year's, right? Maybe we could swing by in a few minutes."

Cas nods. "Yeah, I felt bad not seeing them for Christmas, but they knew you'd be alone and they let me stay. They would have invited you, but things are just really...rough, for them, right now. What Gabriel did...it really tore them apart."

Cas can see Dean's jaw clench as he remembers that horrible day. Cas is unbelievably angry at Gabriel for what he did to Sam, and he remembers feeling the same red-hot fury Dean feels when Luci abused him and his siblings for so many years. The only thing he feels good about from those years is that he, Michael, and Gabriel managed to keep Luci away from Anna. He remembers on a few occasions throwing himself in front of Anna's door and volunteering to perform whatever sexual act Luci was demanding, just so that Anna could be spared. It was fucked up, and every day he hates remembering that Luci was only in prison for less than a year.

"Yeah, I would think so," Dean finally says, looking down at his clenched fists, and Cas can see him forcing himself to relax them.

"We can go after lunch, if you'd like." Cas says.

Dean looks at Cas, forcing a smile that looks painful. "Yeah, that sounds good. I think it would be best if Sam stayed home, though."

"Yes, absolutely," Cas agrees in a split second. Gabriel hadn't lived at home for weeks, but Cas knows that being in that house again would be an insane trigger for Sam. The court date hasn't been set yet, and Cas knows Sam is dreading the day he'll have to testify against his abuser. Their parents had kicked him out without a second thought, which Cas appreciates greatly. It took months to get Luci out, but Gabriel was on the streets within 5 days. As far as Cas knows, he's living with an equally scummy friend, but he didn't care to ask for details. Just as long as he was away from Sam.

"Alright, cool. I picked up a couple rotisserie chickens to share. Sammy!" Dean calls out. "We got food!"

The moose-footsteps return, and Sam slides into the kitchen in socks. "Hell yeah!"

The three of them polish off the two chickens easily, and Cas tries to soak in what it feels like to be with both the Winchesters for close to the last time. Each bite is a struggle, and he has a flash of sick excitement at the thought of being able to go back to starving himself when Dean is gone. He feels an immediate surge of guilt, and he tries to force it from his mind.

"So, Sammy," Dean says, wiping his mouth with a paper towel. "Cas and I are going to see his parents, but I know you'd rather stay home. Just letting you know."

Sam's face is neutral, but Cas can see him clench his jaw ever so slightly. 

"Yeah, that's fine. I'll just uh...see you later then," Sam says, swallowing nervously.

Cas feels so sorry for Sam. He knows exactly what he's feeling, but he doesn't know if there's anything he can say to make things better. All he can do is give a well-meaning smile that he hopes conveys the depth of his empathy.

"Alright, we're heading out then. Call me if you need anything," Dean says, grabbing the keys to the Impala.

"I will."

With that, Cas and his boyfriend walk out the door and get into the car.

"I really worry about that kid," Dean says as soon as he closes the car door.

"Yeah, I do too," Cas agrees softly.

"Promise me you'll take care of him. Promise me, please," Dean asks urgently, his fists tightening on the steering wheel as he looks desperately into Cas's eyes.

"I promise, Dean," Cas affirms, just as softly. "I will do everything in my power to take care of him."

"Thank you," Dean says quietly, blinking to clear his almost-shed tears.

"Anything for you," Cas says, reaching over and squeezing his boyfriend's knee. Dean dropped a hand down to cover Cas's hand, and Cas can feel the tremors shuddering through his hands.

Dean takes a deep breath before shifting the car into Reverse, exhaling as they pulled out of the parking space.

The drive was made in silence, but silence had never been so loud.

 

***

_Dean_

 

They pulled up to Cas's parents house 20 minutes later, and he was trying his best to calm his nerves in preparation to seeing his parents. He didn't want them to see how badly it was affecting him; they had enough guilt and grief going on right now.

He could see Cas doing the same, taking a big breath and shaking out his hands.

"Okay, let's do this," Dean says, forcing a smile.

They get out of the car and Cas rings the doorbell.

Cas's mother answers the door. "Oh hello, Castiel! We weren't expecting you! Come on in. Hello, Dean!"

"Hello, Mrs. Novak," Dean replies politely. 

"Oh, don't be so formal. You've been dating Castiel for almost a year, you're pretty much family. Call me Becky." she says, a smile on her face as she looks at Dean.

"Okay then, Becky," Dean says, matching the smile.

They enter the house, and Dean's skin prickles with unease. It's horrible to think that his baby brother was ruined over and over within these walls. He tries not to let it show. It wasn't Becky and Chuck's fault, Dean knows this, but he's just itching for someone to blame. Blaming Gabriel wasn't enough, because nobody is born a rapist. They get made into one.

"Chuck, Castiel and Dean are here!" his mom calls out down the hallway.

Footsteps are heard, bringing his dad into the living room with a smile on his face. He hugs Cas, then Dean, and it almost hurts how much he felt loved by Chuck. His own dad certainly never made him feel that way.

"Come on in. Are you hungry? I could whip up something real fast," Chuck offers.

"No, it's alright, we just ate," Cas says.

Chuck and Becky glance at each other for less than a split second, but Dean catches it. He knows firsthand what it's like to question when Cas is telling the truth about eating.

"Really, we did just eat. I picked up a couple rotisserie chickens and we ate back at the dorm." Dean confirms, hoping to ease their minds.

"Oh, good then," Becky says at last. "Would you like something to drink, then?"

"Uh, I'm okay. Thank you," Dean says, starting to feel awkward. He can't remember the last time someone made a fuss over him, if it ever happened at all. Just being offered something as simple as food and drink was completely alien to him.

"Mom, you're smothering him," Cas interjects. "He's quite self-sufficient, I promise, he'll ask for something if he needs it."

"Okay, I apologize," Becky says, holding her hands up in surrender. "Anyway, what brings you over?"

"Just saying hi. I felt bad that I couldn't be with you for Christmas, but I really appreciate you letting me spend it with Dean." Cas explains.

Dean briefly wonders if Cas's parents have any clue as to what's going to happen in two day's time. They obviously don't, the only people who know are himself and Cas. Sam barely counts, seeing as he doesn't believe them. How Cas is going to explain his death is beyond him, and they really should have made up a story to cover it up. Problem is, they have no idea how he's going to die. Will he drop dead of "natural causes", like an aneurysm? Will he just blink out of existence? Will someone show up and kill him, grim reaper-style? There was so much he didn't know that he's going to have to figure out in under 48 hours.

"Oh, it wasn't a problem. I know you boys are serious about each other. Hell, one day we might have Christmas together as a family!" Becky exclaims.

Dean's heart stills in his chest, and he watches Cas freeze and stop breathing for a moment. Was she talking about marriage?

Awkward silence ensues, and Chuck breaks it by clearing his throat. "Becky, don't embarrass them. One step at a time, right boys?"

Dean nods stiffly and swallows, trying to not to let his feelings show. Deep down, Dean never thought he'd get married. 

Until he fell for Cas. 

He never felt like that with anyone. For a short, sweet while, he thought he'd found the one. But now he would never get to have that. He never brought it up with Cas, and he has no idea if his boyfriend felt the same. Yet another thing he would be giving up.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to overreach," Becky says, putting her hands up in an apologetic gesture.

"It's fine, Mom," Cas answers, but Dean can still feel the tension radiating off of him.

Despite the awkward start, Dean finds himself in easy conversation with Cas's parents. They were genuinely good people, and Dean feels sorry for them for having to deal with two of their six children being sex offenders, and having the other four be sexually abused right under their noses.

They laugh and visit with each other, and the topic soon turns to nostalgia and stories of the past.

"Dean, I don't think we ever mentioned this, but we knew you two would be together from the moment Castiel told us about you," Chuck says, winking at Cas, who turns a shade of red.

"Oh really?" Dean says, leaning forward in his seat and grinning. "What did he say?"

"Dad, stop it, for fuck's sake--" Cas tries to interrupt.

"He came home that day and told us he wanted to stay in the dorms instead of coming home, and when we asked why, he turned the deepest shade of red I've ever seen and mumbled something about a hot roommate."

"Castiel!" Dean exclaims, his voice teasing. "Did you really tell your parents you had a hot roommate? Am I your hot roommate then?"

"I didn't mean to say _hot_ , I was trying to say you were halfway fucking decent--"

"That's called a Freudian slip, sweetheart," Dean says, winking. "It's okay, I have a secret: I have a hot roommate too,"

"Okay, fuck this," Cas says, burying his flushed face into his hands in embarrassment. His parents are laughing quite hard, which only seems to fluster Cas more.

Dean leans over and wraps his arms around his boyfriend, smiling hard. "I'm sorry, babe, I just had to. When were you gonna tell me that?"

"Never!" Cas says, his voice muffled by his hands. He lifts his face, his cheeks still quite pink. "I want you to think I have some sort of dignity."

"That ship has sailed, Cas. It officially left the harbor when I found out you can ride a unicycle." 

"It was _one time!_ "

Dean laughs again, still holding Cas tightly. His face hurt from smiling, and he realizes it's the first time in weeks that he genuinely felt happy and at peace.

"Well, you boys seem to be getting along just fine. I've got to get the grill up and going, I'm barbecuing tonight. You're welcome to stay, if you'd like." Chuck says, rising to his feet.

"I'd love to, Mr. Novak--I mean, Chuck," Dean says, smiling warmly.

"Great. We're gonna step outside, you can watch a movie in Cas's room if you'd like. The TV in the living room is on the fritz, I apologize," Becky says.

Dean stands and offers a hand to pull Cas to his feet. He was noticeably heavier, not skin and bones like he used to be. He was still quite thin, but he didn't look sickly anymore. Dean prays that he'll be able to stay like that after he's gone.

"What do you want to watch?" Dean asks.

"I don't think we can watch a whole movie, if we're gonna make it to then 7:00 showtime," Cas says, glancing at his watch.

"Alright, then maybe an episode of something," Dean says. "Do you have anything in mi--"

"Oh! Yes! I do have something I wanted to show you!" Cas exclaims, suddenly excited.  "Have you seen _Good Omens_ yet?"

"Can't say that I have," Dean answers. "What's it about?"

"An angel and a demon team up to stop the predestined apocalypse because they kinda like things how they are. It's very gay, which is the most important part." Cas says, grabbing Dean's hand and pulling him back to his bedroom.

Cas lets go of Dean when he gets into his room and grabs the remote, turning on the TV and clicking through apps and getting an episode queued up.

Dean looks around Cas's room, taking it all in. Even though they had been dating almost a year, Dean hadn't actually gone inside his room yet. It still looked like a high school boy lived in it, what with the band posters and string lights up, but Dean found it endearing, and full of things that Cas loved. He notices little knick knacks and small gifts he had given Cas arranged on his dresser and night stand. A small BB8 soda cup topper from when they saw the premiere of _The Force Awakens_ , a Hot Wheels version of Dean's Impala, even a scribbled note Dean had passed him in class their first week of school. Dean's heart hurt to think of what he was leaving behind in two short days.

"Okay, ready," Cas says, jumping onto his bed and patting the spot beside him for Dean.

Dean got up on his bed, and Cas instantly brought him closer to cuddle with him. Dean relaxed into his arms, allowing himself to melt in the warmth and comfort of his boyfriend.

The first episode was very good, and Dean was already majorly invested in the relationship between the angel and the demon. It was extremely gay, just like Cas said, and Dean was hooked. A brief flash of sadness came across him when he realized he probably won't be able to finish the series in the last hours of his life. It was such a strange feeling--he doubts there was anybody alive who knows exactly when they will die.

After the episode was over, it was almost 5:30. Dean didn't really want to stay for dinner, but he knows it's important to Cas that they do. He doesn't know why he doesn't want to stay for dinner, besides the fact that he hasn't wanted to do much of anything for the past week or so. Everything felt hollow, and he was almost ready to die just so he wouldn't have to feel this way anymore. He hates himself for thinking like this; he was never one to give up when things got hard. He also wonders if this is how Cas feels all the time. Dean himself has never experienced clinical depression, oddly enough, given his childhood, and he can't imagine what it would be like to live like this every single day for years. He's beginning to understand why his boyfriend would want to kill himself.

Dinner is served, but Dean isn't really all there during it. Chuck had barbecued some ribs, and they were quite good, but somehow the taste wasn't as satisfying as it should be. He didn't really even feel full after he ate, but he didn't want to eat anything else either. In a way, life just tasted like plain mashed potatoes these days. He does his best to maintain the facade and talk and joke and laugh with Cas and his parents, but it's so hard to make himself do anything but sit like a lump on a log for hours. He wants to go home and just sleep, but he already promised Cas a movie. He wants so badly to be able to enjoy his last moments, to savor every last emotions he was allowed to feel, but he couldn't.

6:45 rolls  around, and it was time for them to go see their movie. Dean smiles and thanks Becky and Chuck for the meal, and they step outside into the crisp evening air. Cas's hand finds Dean's and he clutches him tightly until they reach the Impala.

"Is everything okay?" Cas asks quietly after the doors close. "Stupid question, I know, but you didn't seem all there at dinner."

Dean takes a breath, not looking at Cas. "I don't know. Everything just feels muted and dark right now and I can't enjoy anything. I feel like I should be savoring what I have now, but I just feel so damn depressed. I'm starting to see how things are for you all the time. I don't fucking know how you do it."

Cas nods, his eyes downcast and heavy. "Yeah. That is how I feel all the time. Not when I'm with you, though. Things are just brighter, somehow. I don't know what I'm going to do with you gone."

"You keep fucking going," Dean says, surprising himself with the firmness of his voice. "You take your meds, go to therapy, and keep going. I did this so you could live, and I will not have it be the reason why you gave up. You promised me you'd take care of Sammy, but I also need you to promise you will take care of yourself."

Dean looks over at Cas, who has his eyebrows furrowed deeply and his fists clenched.

"I don't know if I can take care of myself, Dean!" Cas says, his voice strained and breaking. "I don't want to live like this anymore. I thought maybe you would help me out of my depression and give me a reason to live, but you're going to be dead in less than 48 hours and I don't know if I can fucking cope with that! I've been trying so hard to hold myself together until you're gone, but I just can't fucking do it."

Cas takes a breath, swallowing. "I didn't ask you to save me. That was the last thing I wanted. I can't make a promise that I'm going to take care of myself when the only thing that made me want to get better is you. I will do my best for Sam, but I can't promise anything for myself."

Dean nods, his jaw and throat tight. He's fucked everything up so badly. The one good thing in his life is going to be taken from him, and it was his own fault. He feels cheated, like they had so much potential, only to be broken like this in the end. That's not how he wanted things to end.

"Maybe...maybe I can reverse this," he says slowly.

"What do you mean?" Cas says, staring hard at Dean.

"I mean, what if I can do something to stop it?" Dean continues, looking up to meet Cas's eyes.

"Like what? Make another deal, get a few months more? What would it matter?" Cas says, his voice still sounding slightly angry.

"I don't know. Maybe...maybe we could find a way to reverse it. Contact Crowley, somehow, renegotiate, something. There must be something, there's so much media revolving around the supernatural, someone has to be right about something." Dean says, trying so hard to believe that his situation can be reversed.

"You think I haven't tried that?" Cas says in disbelief. "You think I haven't scoured the internet looking for anything to stop this? I can't find any solid evidence of the existence of a king of Hell besides Satan himself, let alone how to stop a curse like this. Shit like this doesn't happen in real life."

"Well, then what the fuck is this then, if not real life?" Dean counters. "Obviously there are whole new worlds besides ours, surely we can't be the first to come in contact with a supernatural creature."

"Probably not! But nobody talks about it because it makes them seem batshit crazy! Anyone who writes something online claiming to have met the devil or whatever is written off as a crackhead and the information gets buried." Cas says, exasperated.

"Well then we find common information that most people can agree with and we use that. If 90% of sources claim something works, then it's almost certain, yeah?" Dean says, desperately trying to find some way to make things right.

"That's not at all how things work. All I could find that didn't seem like Hollywood bullshit was just sketchy websites and forums that went inactive in 2007. The only thing that anyone can agree on is that salt and iron repel malicious beings."

"Then we fucking use salt and iron!" Dean says, his voice finally reaching a shouting volume. "You can't tell me that you just want to give up, Cas."

"I don't want to give up!" Cas shouts back. "For the first time in my fucking life I don't want to give up! But none of this is going to work, and not just because we can't find solid information. You made the deal, Dean, you consented. Nobody forced you to agree, and now you have to honor that. Crowley made me live, so now you have to die. Have you considered what would happen if you evaded your death? If you went back on your word he might go back on his and kill me. What would you do then, Dean?"

Dean is silent, staring at the dashboard of the Impala, still parked at the end of Cas's parent's long driveway. He knows Cas is right. He didn't even consider the fact that Crowley could still hurt or kill Cas, and that he might if Dean didn't hold up his end of the deal.

"There is nothing that I want more than to save you," Cas continues, his voice firm enough to draw back Dean's gaze. "But I can't. We can try all we want, but there's no version of this where we both get to live and have our happily ever after."

"You don't know that," Dean says quietly, his voice wavering uncertainly.

"You're right, I don't know anything for sure. But I know how deals work, and what little solid lore online pretty much specified a deal with a supernatural being is unbreakable, with terrible repercussions if evaded." Cas says softly.

Dean nods, utterly defeated. He doesn't want Cas to be right. He wants to go down swinging, to do everything he can to survive. But he doesn't want to chance Cas being caught in the crossfire. If Cas died and he lived, he doesn't know if he'd be able to live with that.

"We should start heading to the movies. The previews are probably playing now." Dean changes the subject, his voice low and resigned.

"I don't really want to watch a movie anymore," Cas says, his voice just as low. "I'm tired."

"Neither do I. But I don't really want to go home and go to sleep either. I don't want tomorrow to come any faster than necessary." his boyfriend replies.

"Let's just get a movie at Redbox and watch it at home. We can stay up as long as you'd like," Cas suggests.

"Sounds like a plan," Dean agrees, turning the key as the Impala roars to life.

It wasn't the plan Dean wanted, but at least he gets to spend a few more precious hours with the man he loved. 

The sun had started to set, and so had they. 

 

 


End file.
